


At Last Came a Knock

by peeves



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: F/F, M/M, abuse mention tw, demiromantic!Mickey, suicide mention tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3512843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peeves/pseuds/peeves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Season 1, Ian Gallagher doesn't meet Mickey Milkovich until a hungover Mickey calls the wrong number to order a pizza.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wrong Number

**Author's Note:**

> Characters/tags/rating will be updated as the story progresses.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And that was the third thing Ian learned about Mickey Milkovich. One, he had pretty blues eyes; two, he was a huge nerd; and three, he liked cheese pizza. Throughout the rest of the conversation, Ian added to his list by shooting questions every so often. Mickey’s annoyance flared up occasionally, but he mostly tolerated and even enjoyed the other boy’s company. It was comfortable and easy to fall into banter with this not-so-much-of-a-stranger-anymore, not to mention an ego boost that Ian kept checking him out whenever he thought Mickey wasn’t looking.
> 
> Almost an hour later, Karen Jackson, who Ian did know from school, walked out of Mickey’s room in only her underwear and a tank top. “Ey, fuckhead, is that pizza?” she greeted, plopping herself into Mickey’s lap and reaching for a slice. “Hey Ian,” she said, as Mickey’s arms came around easily to support her. “Didn’t know you two knew each other.”
> 
> “We didn’t,” Mickey said at the same time Ian said “We do now,” with an almost possessive look in his eye.

Mickey Milkovich woke when an empty beer can hit his face.

“What the fuck?” he sat up from the floor groggily. His sister lay a few feet away with her eyes still closed. “The fuck was that for?”

“I’m hungry,” Mandy whined. “And everything hurts.” The Milkoviches had a welcome home party for Terry the night before, and as always, they went all out. ‘All out’ usually resulted in painful hangovers, and trash everywhere.

“The fuck you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know? Order some pizza? Use your brain, assface.”

“Yeah okay douchebag, why don’t you sleep on your fucking bed instead of the floor,” Mickey retorted, stumbling through the kitchen to find the delivery number for the nearest pizza place.

Mandy didn’t respond, but slowly dragged herself into her room, slamming her door, which made Mickey jump and groan. Rubbing his eyes with one hand and dialing on the household cellphone with the other, Mickey called the pizzeria.

 

* * *

 

Ian Gallagher was so incredibly bored. Life-threateningly bored.

Lip was out taking the October SAT for some junior, Fiona was working her morning hotel shift, and Carl and Debbie were upstairs playing an intense game of battleship, which Ian wasn’t allowed to partake in because he wouldn’t shut up about how unrealistic the game was, and how _real_ battles weren’t that easy to win.

That left Ian in the living room with Liam, who was chewing on their only cellphone, when the phone began to buzz.

“Here, buddy,” Ian cooed at Liam while taking the phone out of Liam’s sticky hands and mouth and wiping the spit off onto his shirt. Although the number had the same area code, he didn’t recognize it. He flipped the phone open anyways, keeping it one inch away from his ear.

“Hello?”

On the other side of the call, Mickey rubbed his eyes again and cleared his throat.

“Um, can I get a large with all the toppings?”

Woah. Ian was not prepared for a voice like that. It wasn’t particularly deep, but whoever was on the phone sounded like they just woke up, and their voice was husky in a way that made Ian want to listen for hours.

“Uh, sorry?”

“…A large pizza. With all the toppings. You know? Like pepperoni…mushrooms…bell peppers and shit.”

“Um…” Ian was speechless. This guy clearly had the wrong number, but Ian was bored and intrigued enough not to immediately correct the caller. He heard an irritated sigh and could almost see the other guy’s eyes roll. What color were they? Brown? Blue?

“Do I need to draw you a fuckin’ map?” Mickey was becoming increasingly annoyed with every beat of silence on the opposing end.

“Um, no. Large pizza with all toppings; got it. Address please?” Shit. What was he doing? Making a new friend, he told himself. Meeting new people.  He didn’t have much to do outside of work, school, and ROTC anyways.

Mickey recited off his address which Ian noted was in his neighborhood, maybe 10 to 20 minutes away.

“Name?”

“Mickey Milkovich.” Shit. Milkovich. He’d heard of them before. In fact, Frank had disappeared yesterday night, announcing his departure for a Milkovich party.

“Number?” Ian pressed further.

“Don’t you...don’t you have it on the fuckin’ caller ID or somethin’?”

“Right, yeah,” Ian tried to compose himself. “Should be delivered in uh…20 to 30 minutes?” he calculated.

“Yeah, okay,” Mickey answered, and abruptly hung up.

Ian grinned to himself, leaning against the fridge, which held all the takeout info, and dialed another number.

“Hi, yes, could I please get a large pizza with all the toppings?”

 

* * *

 

Mickey was nursing his hangover with another beer when someone knocked, so he kicked Mandy’s door to let her know the pizza was here.

“Mands, pizza’s here,” Mickey announced, but there was no response except for light snoring from the other side, so he went for the front door.

He opened it to see a slightly scrawny but good-looking redheaded kid, maybe a year or two younger than him. Bouncing slightly on his feet, Ian peered around Mickey.

“Wow, your place is a huge mess,” he said.

“Uh, okay?” Mickey raised his eyebrows at the kid, waiting for him to say how much Mickey owed him.

“I’m Ian. Gallagher. You uh, you called the wrong number when you were trying to order pizza.” He shifted on his feet, growing slightly unsure of himself. But fuck it, he was already here, plus Mickey’s eyes were a really pretty blue, so he may as well go for it. “But, uh, I literally have nothing better to do—”

“Clearly.”

“So can I come in?” Ian asked hopefully, heart beating wildly in his chest. Jesus, this was so stupid. So stupid. Who even does this? No one does this.

Mickey stared at Ian, dumbfounded. “How much for the pizza?” he motioned to the box Ian was carrying.

“Oh, it’s fine. I covered it.” Out of his own pocket, he stopped himself from adding. No need to over share how desperate he was for company his own age.

Mickey blinked at Ian a few times, then shrugged, standing to the side to let Ian in. Free food was free food.

Ian grinned and walked into the Milkovich house, looking for a semi-uncluttered surface to put the pizza down on. After knocking a few beer cans off the middle of the couch and placing the pizza down, he was overcome with a sudden wave of gratitude for Fiona and her ability to juggle so much on her plate and yet keep the house habitable.

“Gallagher, you said? You Frank’s kid?”

“I’m fifteen,” Ian responded, wrinkling his nose at being linked to Frank and called a kid by someone who wasn’t much older. Not that Ian knew, but Mickey had turned 16 half a year ago.

“Yeah okay,” Mickey dismissed and sat down on the couch, pulling a slice of pizza from the open box next to him with Ian on the other side.

“How come I’ve never seen you at school?” Ian asked, since they lived in the same district.

“Dropped out early in the year,” Mickey said. “No fucking point, really. Only thing that doesn’t bore me to death is probably math or something, I don’t know,” he explained while picking off all the toppings on his pizza and tossing them back into the box.

“You sound like a nerd,” Ian said with a mouth full of food.

“A nerd? I fucking dropped out, man.”

“Yeah, but you like _math_ ,” Ian said, chewing thoughtfully. “You should come back to school. You can still catch up since you only missed a month. Don’t give up on it just because the other stuff’s boring or hard.”

“The fuck do you care?” Mickey questioned, dumping the rest of his pizza toppings from his slice onto the pizza.

“I don’t,” Ian lied. It wasn’t hard for Ian to care about anyone, even someone he just met, even someone as prickly as Mickey. “If you come back, you could tutor me in geometry. You know, since I bought you the pizza.”

“Nobody asked you to,” Mickey replied, chewing obnoxiously on his now cheese-only pizza.

“Why’d you order all the toppings if you’re not going to eat them all?”

“Mandy’s the one that likes the toppings; Iggy likes the bell peppers and the sausages. They take my toppings, and I get the cheese. It works,” Mickey said.

And that was the third thing Ian learned about Mickey Milkovich. One, he had pretty blues eyes; two, he was a huge nerd; and three, he liked cheese pizza. Throughout the rest of the conversation, Ian added to his list by shooting questions every so often. Mickey’s annoyance flared up occasionally, but he mostly tolerated and even enjoyed the other boy’s company. It was comfortable and easy to fall into banter with this not-so-much-of-a-stranger-anymore, not to mention an ego boost that Ian kept checking him out whenever he thought Mickey wasn’t looking.

Almost an hour later, Karen Jackson, who Ian did know from school, walked out of Mickey’s room in only her underwear and a tank top. “Ey, fuckhead, is that pizza?” she greeted, plopping herself into Mickey’s lap and reaching for a slice. “Hey Ian,” she said, as Mickey’s arms came around easily to support her. “Didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“We didn’t,” Mickey said at the same time Ian said “We do now,” with an almost possessive look in his eye.

Karen caught on pretty quickly to what was going on, and decided to tease them a bit. She moaned loudly as she consumed her slice, and Mickey grinned as Ian tried not to roll his eyes. He was familiar with Karen’s reputation, and even heard Lip mention her a few times at some point.

Trying to fight the disappointment building in his stomach, Ian averted his eyes from the couple next to him and started planning his escape from what was becoming an extremely awkward situation. Ian didn’t do subtle, and knew that Mickey was aware of him checking him out. He’d heard all the nightmares about Terry Milkovich, the violent homophobe, and deduced that if his son could handle being checked out, he probably had a chance. Looking at the pair now, he couldn’t imagine being more wrong.

After finishing her slice, Karen burped, patted Mickey on the thigh, then headed back into Mickey’s room. “Have fun, boys!”

Mickey rolled his eyes, and Ian couldn’t keep it to himself any longer.

“She your girlfriend?” he asked. _Please say no, please say no, please say no._

“No we’re not—we’re not together.”

“Do you want to be?”

“No? The fuck you askin’ stupid fuckin’ questions for?”

“Just wondering.” He grinned at Mickey, appeased, knowing he didn’t misread the earlier signs of interest. Or rather tolerance, which from Mickey, Ian had gathered over this last hour, was as close to expressing interest as it was going to get.

“Wipe that stupid smile off your face, Gallagher,” Mickey said, trying not to smile himself. It was dumb and it was pointless, he reminded himself, but Mickey found himself endeared. It wasn’t every day a cute boy showed up at his front door with pizza and a penchant for his company.

What would’ve been a sweet moment between the two was interrupted by Terry, who lumbered into the living room on his way to the bathroom.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked Ian, squinting at the two boys sitting next to each other and sharing a pizza.

Ian raised his eyebrows and looked over at Mickey.

“You should go,” Mickey said. “Uh, thanks for the pizza.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Ian replied, hyperaware of Terry’s continuing looming presence, and stood up ready to leave. Suddenly, Karen sauntered out from Mickey’s room again as if on cue, draping herself all over him and reaching for another slice, effectively distracting Terry from Ian.

“Hey Terry,” she said confidently. “Bye Ian!”

“Bye,” he said. “Uh, I’ll see you?” he directed to Mickey, omitting the ‘at school’ at the end of his question.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Mickey answered without looking at him. Ian took the lack of eye contact as his cue to leave, and so he did.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Mickey and Karen were hanging out in his room. Karen had known better than to press for information about Ian, so they mostly just smoked and talked about other subjects, like what her shithead dad was doing nowadays.

She had become friends with Mickey almost two years ago, when he asked her out in front of the whole high school. Out of curiosity, she said yes, and soon learned that Mickey was gay as hell, and asking her out was just a ploy to get his dad off his back. Since then, she’d made a habit of hanging around the Milkovich house to escape her own, and besides Mandy, she was probably the person who knew Mickey best. Which meant she knew Mickey would need more time to process how he felt, if he felt anything at all, and that pressing for information now would only agitate her friend.

“Alright, I better get going,” she said and flicked the cigarette stub in the ashtray.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Mickey offered.

Karen grinned and said “No dumbass, I’m not too far away. We’ve been through this before.” Every time she left the Milkovich house at night, Mickey would offer to walk her home. On some days she’d accept, because having Mickey Milkovich at her front door made her dad think that she was screwing the neighborhood thug.

“Bad neighborhood. Pretty blonde girl walking alone at night…”

She pulled her pants on, and started bundling up her jacket and scarf. “Aw, you think I’m pretty? Can gay guys even tell if girls are pretty?”

“Fuck off,” he said, but grinned. It was the kind of grin that only showed up when Mickey was somewhere he was comfortable in, around people he was comfortable with. 

“See ya,” she said, and left.

 

* * *

 

Ian rolled over, back and forth, trying to fall asleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about his day, about Mickey. Mickey was the most interesting person Ian had met in a long time, and the added challenge of being hard to know just made him even more attractive. Remembering the one-sided smiles and the almost shy looks Mickey gave him occasionally, Ian was pretty confident that he had a chance with Mickey Milkovich. He turned over a few more times before his mind began to slow down. The rhythmic snores and breathing from his brothers were calming, and finally Ian fell asleep with a smile on his face.


	2. Knight in Shining Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the bell rang for second period, Ian was the first one out the room. He was waiting by the doorway of Mickey’s first period class by the time that class was dismissed. Once Mickey was out the door and headed towards his next class, Ian was walking by his side. Again.
> 
> “Are you walking me to my fuckin’ classes, Gallagher?” Mickey asked incredulously once he caught on.
> 
> “Maybe I’m just going the same fuckin’ way, you ever thought about that?” Ian shot back.
> 
> With a quirk of his eyebrows but no further protest, Mickey relented. Who cared if Ian wanted to waste his time? That wasn’t Mickey’s problem. If he was being honest with himself, he enjoyed the other boy’s company; if that was going to become a common occurrence, then so be it. And that was how Ian Gallagher started walking Mickey Milkovich to all of his classes.

The homeroom bell rang, signaling the start of the 7-minute passing period before first period. Ian walked down the main hallway towards his first class of the day when the door to the main entrance opened and Mickey walked through. The smile that spread across Ian’s face was embarrassing to say the least, and he mentally chastised himself to tone it the fuck down. He met Mickey halfway down the hallway, and even though he was only about 10 feet away from his first class, he turned around to walk by Mickey’s side.

“You came!”

Mickey responded by raising his eyebrows.

“What’s your first class?”

“Uh, English? With Hoffman.”

“Nice.”

Mickey felt obligated to walk faster, or at least make it harder for Gallagher to keep up, but the redhead’s legs were frustratingly longer, and he strolled easily at his side.

“Are you nervous?”

“Why the fuck would I be nervous?”

“I dunno, first day back at school and all that.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. His very blue, very pretty eyes, Ian noted.

“It’s not a big deal. You make a habit of makin’ big deals outta nothin’?”

“Nah, just being supportive.” They stopped in front of Mickey’s classroom.

“Don’t need any support,” Mickey muttered. Ian raised his hands in surrender and started walking backwards, still grinning at Mickey.

“See you,” Ian said good-naturedly and headed back towards the direction they came in. Jesus, that boy never stopped smiling. Didn’t his face ever get tired? Mickey schooled his own face back into what he hoped was its intimidating scowl, and headed into his classroom.

 

* * *

 

When the bell rang for second period, Ian was the first one out the room. He was waiting by the doorway of Mickey’s first period class by the time that class was dismissed. Once Mickey was out the door and headed towards his next class, Ian was walking by his side. Again.

“Are you walking me to my fuckin’ classes, Gallagher?” Mickey asked incredulously once he caught on.

“Maybe I’m just going the same fuckin’ way, you ever thought about that?” Ian shot back.

With a quirk of his eyebrows but no further protest, Mickey relented. Who cared if Ian wanted to waste his time? That wasn’t Mickey’s problem. If he was being honest with himself, he enjoyed the other boy’s company; if that was going to become a common occurrence, then so be it. And that was how Ian Gallagher started walking Mickey Milkovich to all of his classes.

 

* * *

 

The lunch bell rang, and unsurprisingly, Ian was waiting outside of Mickey’s classroom.

“Jesus. Don’t you have other people to bother?”

“No, not really. Mostly keep to myself. Sometimes I’ll hang around Lip.”

“Oh.”

“What?” Ian asked and directed Mickey to the outside lunch tables by sitting on top of one of them.

Mickey sat down next to Ian with no complaint as Ian pulled out the brown bag Fiona packed in the morning. Mickey was noticeably empty-handed.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, fidgeting. “Just thought you’d be more popular or somethin’.”

Ian paused mid-crackle of noisily taking out his lunch. He didn’t even bother trying to stifle the smile that felt like his face was splitting in two.

“Popular? You think I’d be popular?”

Mickey responded by rolling his eyes and pointedly looking in a different direction.

“Nah, I’m more…private. Private Gallagher,” Ian joked. “You know, because I’m in ROTC.”

Visibly cringing, Mickey turned back to shake his head slowly at Ian. “That wasn’t…that wasn’t…nah, man.” Ian didn’t seem embarrassed at all for his terrible joke, but the secondhand embarrassment hit Mickey like a train.

Ian tore off half of his sandwich and waved it in front of Mickey, who recoiled and glared at the redhead in question.

“You don’t have lunch,” Ian explained. “Take some of mine.” The traitor that was Mickey’s stomach grumbled, and Ian shoved the sandwich further into Mickey’s face to prove his point.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded, snatching the sandwich away and wolfing it down.

“Wow, now that’s a pizza and half a sandwich that you owe me.”

“Are you fuh-ing ki-hing me?” Mickey said in as affronted of a manner as he could convey with his mouth full.

“What?” Ian pretended he couldn’t understand, as if he wasn’t enjoying every second of this.

“Are you fuh-ing ki-hing—ne’er mind,” Mickey acquiesced disgruntledly, hastily swallowing the rest of the sandwich. “ROTC?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, I have practice every day after school on the field near the bleachers for two hours,” Ian said, vaguely pointing out the direction. “I want to be an officer.”

 _I know where it is_ , Mickey wanted to say. Ian seemed to forget that Mickey was a year older and spent an entire insufferable year at this school before Ian came along.

“An officer, huh? Aren’t those the first ones to get shot?”

Ian shrugged. “I’m gonna be something,” he said, biting into his own sandwich, with the most resolve in his voice Mickey had ever heard.

 

* * *

 

At the end of the school day, Mickey was about to head home when a different familiar voice stopped him.

“Mick? Mick! Hey!” Karen greeted, and bounded over to join him. “What the hell are you doing here? Collecting for a deal again?”

“School,” he said, shrugging.

“You’re back in school? What the hell? You didn’t tell me you were coming back!” she said accusatorily, and hit his stomach backhanded.

“Ow, what the fuck, are you my fuckin’ keeper?” he retorted.

“No, but I’m your only fuckin’ friend!”

“No you’re not!”

“Like hell I’m not. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that last time you got shitfaced and cheesy as fuck, droolin’ all over me lamenting ‘Oh Karen, you’re the platonic love of my life, how will I ever find another woman like you?’”

“I never said that!”

“Okay, so it was more like ‘Yo, Karen, I know I don’t say this a lot, but I’m pretty sure you’re my only friend, and that means a lot,’” Karen imitated in a ridiculous gruff voice that did not resemble Mickey’s at all.

“Jesus Christ.” Mickey pulled his face down with his hands. “Fuck off, you’re not my only friend anymore alright?”

“Ooh,” Karen latched onto his response, ready to tease. “Is this about Ian Gallagher eye fucking you on the couch the other day?”

“Can you keep your fucking voice down?” he asked incredulously, looking around. “There wasn’t any—” he spluttered, trying to find his cool. “There wasn’t any _eye-fucking_ , Jesus, is it that hard to believe that I have another friend?”

“Nah, not with your charming attitude,” Karen answered, elbowing him. She was happy for Mickey, honestly, and thought that there was definitely some eye-fucking going on, but decided to give her friend a break. “Come on, I got a surprise for you. I was gonna bring this to your house, but since you’re already here, let’s go!” She linked her arm and pulled a frustratingly unexcited Mickey along with her towards their old hanging spot.

They used to spend a lot of time smoking on the bleachers, conveniently supporting the rumors that they were dating, and looking over all the sports practices going on around them and making fun of the kids that tried so hard. Except this time, Ian was one of those kids. Which only gave Mickey the opportunity to admire Ian in his uniform, his face furrowed in concentration and a rare seriousness.

Karen lay down on the bleachers with her head in Mickey’s lap, passing a cigarette back and forth.

“No eye-fucking, you said?”

Caught staring, Mickey grumpily pulled his attention back down to Karen.

“Fine. So I’d fuck him. Big deal.”

“Given the way he was looking at you, pretty sure the feeling’s mutual.”

“Are you trying to play fuck buddy match maker over here? I can find people to fuck on my own, Jesus.” He stole the cigarette from her mid-smoke. Karen rolled her eyes.

“I think he’d want to be more than fuck buddies.”

Mickey inhaled deeply, and blew the smoke out his nose. “So like…friends with benefits.”

“Same fucking thing, dumbass. Unless those benefits include dating you.” Karen reached for the cig again, but Mickey kept it out of her reach, putting it back between his lips.

“Who said anything about dating? Maybe he just enjoys my fuckin’ company.”

“Okay, so he enjoys your company and wants to fuck you. Doesn’t that mean he likes you?”

“Don’t think that’s how it works.”

“You don’t think that’s how it works?” Karen sat up so she was facing Mickey. “How else would it work?”

“Are you a fuckin’ expert now?” Mickey said, wrinkling his nose.

“Okay, come on. Does he give you butterflies?” She stole back the cigarette.

“What the fuck? No?”

“You don’t get nervous or excited to see him? You don’t wanna hold his hand or anything?”

“No?”

“Then what is it?” Karen pressed further.

“He’s okay. Doesn’t make me want to punch him in the face most of the time. You’re okay. I can’t punch you ‘cause you’re a girl. You’re my friend. Why’s it such a big deal?” Why do I befriend people who make big deals outta nothin’? was the question Mickey asked himself. He wished she’d let it go.

“Huh. Have you ever liked anyone before?”

“Uh, I like you? Though I’m reconsiderin’ that after this fucking conversation,” Mickey muttered.

“No, not like that, douchebag,” Karen said. “Have you ever liked someone, like, romantically?”

“Do I look like a fuckin’ romantic to you?”

Karen grinned. “I bet Ian is. I bet he’s a huge fucking romantic. I bet he has heart eyes when he talks to you.”

“What the fuck are heart eyes?”

“Oh my god, Mickey, you’re so uneducated.”

“Lay off,” he grumbled. She angled her body facing away from him, and elbowed him to move his arms so she could lie back down. Once she was sufficiently comfortable, she pulled her phone out, opened up a text, and typed in the heart eyes emoji.

“Here,” she pointed out.

“No one fucking looks like that!” Mickey took another deep inhale of the cigarette that was almost too short to smoke.

“It’s an expression! Oh my god, never mind, I give up.”

Mickey blew the smoke into Karen’s face, and she recoiled, disgusted.

“Fuck, you’re such a shithead sometimes I swear to god.” Mickey started laughing, vibrating his entire body and moving Karen along with him.

 

* * *

 

Ian enjoyed ROTC. No, that was putting it too simply. Ian thrived off of the uniformity, the clarity and strictness of the rules, the order that often contrasted the chaos in his life. ROTC was straightforward. You practice the drills, you work hard, you make progress, and you move up the ranks. The system wasn’t fucked, leaving you forever at a disadvantage because of factors outside of your control. Everything was in your control. Ian was in control, and that’s exactly how he liked it.

When practice ended, Ian finally let himself be distracted by the couple on the bleachers. He had caught Mickey laughing with Karen earlier, something he had yet to see for himself, something he was determined he’d see by the end of today. Grabbing his things, he started heading towards their direction.

Seeing Ian make his way over, Karen got ready to leave, shouldering her backpack.

“Where you going?”

“I’m gonna head home; some of us actually do homework, yknow?”

“Yeah, alright. Want me to go with you?”

“No, stay. Lover boy’s making his way over,” she teased.

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey sighed, exasperated.

“Send him my love!” she said, blowing an air kiss as she stepped down the bleachers, passing and winking at Ian on her way down.

“Hey,” he greeted Mickey. His eagerness to spend more time with Mickey overpowered his self-consciousness about being sweaty and a bit smelly. Besides, Mickey was constantly covered in dirt, so Ian didn’t think he really had the right to judge.

“You been here the entire time?” Ian said.

“Yeah just…Karen, she just left, so…”

“Are you heading home now?” Ian asked, setting down his backpack next to Mickey and taking a seat.

“I don’t know? Nothin’ better to do?”

“You should hang out with me,” Ian said, leaning back against the fence and settling in.

Mickey chuckled. “Why?”

“Sometimes you just meet people that you don’t hate,” Ian explained, shrugging, unfolding his long legs. “Some people you just…feel okay around. Better. Good. Don’t have to pretend to be anything you’re not. And so you hang out with them.”

Mickey mulled over it, and agreed. Blame it on the cigarette, on Karen leaving him in a good mood, on a school day that didn’t go terribly, but he agreed. Most of Mickey’s interaction with others was devoted to repelling them as effectively as possible. He wasn’t patient, and he wasn’t pleasant, and until Ian, the only person besides Mandy he could stand was Karen. Finding someone he didn’t hate? Rare. Spending time with someone he didn’t hate? Something he could get used to.

It became routine after that, for Mickey to meet Ian at the dugouts after ROTC. Ian began bringing two lunches instead of one, until Mickey got tired of the gesture—“It’s _not_ charity!” “Fuck off, I can feed myself”—and so they alternated days. Mickey’s days were usually slightly soggy dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, but Ian didn’t mind, not when his portion was in a plastic bag with his name scrawled across: I A N. Turns out Ian wasn’t kidding when he asked Mickey to tutor him in geometry, and sometimes their hours were spent with Ian glaring at his textbook while Mickey discovered that he did actually have the ability to be patient. Sometimes their hours were spent with beer, cigarettes, or weed, and Ian would tell Mickey about how infuriating it was to be second best to Lip. Once Mickey told Ian about how his mom died, and then they never spoke of her again.

Ian usually couldn’t stay for longer than an hour or two, because sometimes he had to help out at home, and Mickey began to tag along. Lip couldn’t understand why Ian _had_ to befriend the neighborhood thug, Debbie was fascinated by Mickey’s height despite his age (“Does this mean I’ll be short forever too?” “Jesus, Christ, kid, we’re not even related, we don’t share the same genes”), Carl wanted to _be_ Mickey (“How many people have you beaten up? Did it hurt to get those tattoos?”), and Liam wouldn’t stop calling him Mickey Mouse. Fiona was initially wary, but dismissed her doubt when she saw how he treated with her younger siblings (“Same rules that apply to you apply to him, which means no smoking inside the house, and just _try_ to leave the toilet seat down?”). The Gallaghers accepted and became used to Mickey’s presence, and Ian was pleased with how quickly his family was able to look past Mickey’s rough demeanor. 

Under normal circumstances, Ian would push to know Mickey’s family in return. However, his short-lived experience with Terry Milkovich was enough so that he wasn’t keen on spending more time at the Milkovich home. But soon he noticed that the constant commotion in the Gallagher household would sometimes make Mickey anxious, staying in public made him self-conscious, and that Mickey was most comfortable in his home when his dad wasn’t around, and so Ian made an effort to spend more time with him there. Mandy paid no attention to him, except for the occasional “Hey fuckheads”, and Ian felt content with the strange balance in his life. There was no way he could have foreseen how quickly that balance would disappear, though he wasn’t naïve enough to expect it to last.

 

* * *

 

Mandy Milkovich didn’t care much for Ian Gallagher. All she knew was that he was Mickey’s other best friend, and she tended to stay away from Mickey’s best friends. There wasn’t any particular reason to stay away, but there also wasn’t a good reason to involve herself in Mickey’s social life. She was already irremovable from his family life, and given their family history, that was more than enough.

She had one class with Ian: health. The teacher was disgusting, often throwing her lewd looks and leering over her desk, claiming to check on her classwork. She didn’t think anyone else noticed, and didn’t expect anyone to. She was used to it. People are shit. You get used to it.

On one occasion, she was tapping her pencil against her bottom lip, tuning out her health teacher’s voice even as it grew louder and louder. She cringed at the bulge in front of his pants, and grimaced as he walked backwards in her direction. Bracing herself for the disgust and discomfort she felt when he would lean a little too close, she was surprised when instead he stumbled and fell on his back a foot away from her. The class erupted into laughter, and the redheaded boy sitting in front of her sniggered, shoulders shaking, leg still stuck out to where he’d originally tripped their teacher.

Warmth surged through Mandy’s chest as Ian turned back and gave her a reassuring grin. He had no idea how important she would eventually become to him, and vice versa. _Shit_ , she thought to herself. _I’ve found my knight in shining armor_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! It gets more interesting don't worry, bear with me, shit goes down next chapter. And basically every chapter after that.  
> Any feedback at all would be immensely encouraging :)  
> (ianschin.tumblr.com)


	3. Double Impact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey lunged forward again, crashing Ian into the lockers with a thud, using his forearm against the other boy’s neck to keep him in place.
> 
> “I should’ve known you were always around for Mandy,” Mickey growled, hating the boy in front of him for using him, and hating himself for being affected by how physically close they were. Ian squirmed, and glared back.
> 
> “I didn’t try anything with Mandy, holy fuck. Can’t you listen for two fucking seconds? She came on to me, alright? And I tried to push her off and stop her from trying to fucking kiss me, Jesus.”
> 
> “Why the fuck would I believe you?” Mickey snarled, leaning closer.
> 
> Ian rolled his eyes and flipped their positions, shoving Mickey against the lockers, caging his head in between his arms and shoving a knee between Mickey’s legs. Both of their heart rates were up, eyes blown wide on a shared adrenaline rush. Ian pressed his hard on against Mickey’s thigh.
> 
> Oh, shit, Mickey thought.
> 
> “Yeah,” Ian breathed heavily, forcing himself not to ground against him. “Does this feel like I’d be interested in your sister?”

“Unless it’s Double Impact Van Damme, ‘cause that’s some Van Double DAMN!” Ian joked, heading back to the couch where Mickey sat shaking his head as he sipped his beer to hide his smile. They were at the Milkovich house that Sunday afternoon, watching a movie. Terry was gone for the weekend with the other Milkovich brothers on some kind of run, and Mickey was happily in his comfort zone.

Movie-watching with Mickey was a true experience, Ian learned. Mickey never shut up, and his commentary was at once endearing and hilarious. Sometimes Ian would kick Mickey to get him to shut up, but that was never a sufficient deterrent.

“Oh get the fuck over it,” Mickey yelled, throwing his crumpled beer can at the crying couple on the screen. “Go back to blowing shit up, that’ll solve your problems.”

Ian grinned to himself, because when things did blow up, Mickey would jump a little, settle in closer to Ian, and pretend nothing had happened. Watching movies with Mickey may have been one of Ian’s favorite things to do.

“Yo asshole, what are you watching?” Mandy greeted as she let herself in through the front door. She dropped her bag and straightened up once she noticed Ian sitting on the couch as well.

“None of your business,” Mickey answered, eyes still glued to the screen.

Ian turned his head back to smile at her. “Hey Mandy,” he said.

Encouraged, Mandy squeezed herself past Mickey to plop onto the couch in between the two boys. She sat so that the left side of her body was pressed against Ian’s, and Ian smiled at her again awkwardly, and shifted incrementally away from her. God, he was so cute. Not her usual type, but let’s face it—her usual type was Grade A horny douchebag, and it was time for a change. She nudged her brother’s calf with her foot to get him to leave them alone. He ignored her, opening another beer. In response, she kicked him hard, and he finally glared at her.

“What?”

She jerked her head back towards his room, and Mickey rolled his eyes, chugged the rest of his beer, and burped loudly, not moving an inch. Ian was engrossed in the movie, oblivious to the exchange. Mandy grit her teeth and leaned over to whisper in her brother’s ear.

“I swear to God, Mickey, if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now I will throw away all the fuckin’ chicken nuggets that ever come into this house.”

“Jesus, calm your tits alright? Shit,” he complained, and got up to head into his room.

“Where you going?” Ian asked.

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about it,” he grumbled, slamming his door. So Mandy wanted to Fuck Ian. Fine. Whatever. Not like he cared.

“What’s up with him?” Ian asked Mandy, who had curled up against the redhead.

“Probably went to jerk off,” she said, jutting her chin to refer to the sex scene on the screen.

Mickey Milkovich jerking off. Now that was something Ian would pay to see, and it showed through the smile that spread across his face and the slight hardening in his pants. Mandy took both as signs of interest, throwing herself against Ian and straddling him.

“Woah, shit!” Ian exclaimed, leaning back into the couch as far as he could and held her away from him by her shoulders.

“It’s fine, he won’t bother us,” Mandy whispered excitedly, unzipping Ian’s jeans and pulling them down roughly. She shoved his hands aside and took off her shirt, and rocked forward to kiss him.

“Mandy, wait!” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a condom.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got us covered,” she said in a seductive, low voice, leaning in again.

“Mandy—” She grabbed the back of Ian’s neck and shoulder, and swung herself down on the couch so Ian was hovering over her. She pulled him down further and leaned up to reach his lips.

“Mandy!” Ian put a hand over her mouth, pushing her down. “I’m not going to have sex with you,” he gritted through his teeth, eyes pleading with her to understand.

Mandy froze as the rejection hit her, anger quickly boiling up to replace her initial want.

“Mickey!” she yelled, muffled by Ian’s large hand. She bit hard into it, and he removed his hand in horror as she yelled for her brother again.

Mickey burst out of his room, looking ready to kill when he saw Ian crouched over between the legs of a half naked, crying Mandy. The situation was extremely compromising, for Ian’s pants were half down and his hand had red bite marks, proving he had it over her mouth.

“Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Mickey roared, lunging for Ian as he scrambled off the couch, pulling up his pants.

“Mickey, it’s not what you think,” Ian protested, one hand pulling up his fly and the other in front of him, begging Mickey to understand.

“Get OUT!” Mandy screamed, curling up on the couch. Mickey picked up Mandy’s shirt from the ground and threw it at her, climbing over the couch to reach Ian.

“Mickey, I swear to God,” Ian tried again, stumbling backwards towards the door.

“SHE SAID GET OUT!” Mickey bellowed, and Ian ran out, leaving the door swinging behind him.

Shaking with anger, Mickey tried to calm himself down as he turned towards his sister.

“Mandy…”

She sniffled, and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“Leave me alone,” she said in a small voice.

Mickey shifted on his feet, torn between giving her the space she asked for and doing…what? How else could he make anything better?

“I said leave me _alone_ ,” she said, more forcefully this time.

“Okay. I’ll uh, I’ll be in my room,” Mickey said awkwardly, and left.

In his room, he paced back and forth, hating himself even more with every step he took. Ian Gallagher. Ian fucking Gallagher. He grabbed the nearest thing to throw at the wall. He was going to destroy Ian Gallagher.

 

* * *

 

Ian ran all the way, but stopped about a block before he got home to calm down. Shit, he fucked up. Or not really. He didn’t even do anything wrong, but now Mickey hated him and yeah, okay, he fucked up. Once he schooled his face into an expression of nonchalance, he headed into the house.

“Hey, you’re back early,” Fiona said, stroking Liam’s head as he napped in her arms on the couch.

“Uh, yeah. Forgot I had some homework,” Ian lied. Fiona recognized the distress Ian was trying to hide, and patted the spot next to her.

“Come on. What happened?”

Ian hesitated between insisting on his lie, or asking for advice. He opted for the latter.

“Um. Um, I made Mandy Milkovich cry so Mickey probably hates me now,” he said, omitting as much as he could. The only family member he ever came out to was Lip, and that was only because his brother found his stash of gay porn.

“Why’d you make her cry?” Fiona asked, wavering between amusement and incredulity. She knew her brother was capable of doing some real harm if he wanted to, but never really heard him mention Mandy before.

“Does it matter?” Ian asked helplessly.

“Well, yeah. Whatever it is you did to make her cry, figure it out and fix it.”

“Girls are so hard to understand,” Ian said, slumping down.

“Ey, none of that,” she said, slapping Ian’s head. “I’m sure everything will be fine,” she reassured and smiled. Ian rolled his eyes, but felt slightly better. He got up and headed upstairs to see Lip smoking on his bed.

“You made Mandy Milkovich cry?” Lip asked.

“Uh, yeah. She came on to me and I…wasn’t into it. And now Mickey thinks that I tried to rape her.”

Lip choked mid-inhale and started laughing.

“Oh my god, this is fucking gold.”

“I mean, _she_ tried to rape me, and I pushed her off, and now she’s mad,” Ian complained, leaning against the bunk bed.

“Well, you’re probably the first guy in her life who hasn’t tried to jump her.”

“She started screaming and crying…”

“Maybe, you should uh, throw it in her? You know? Make her happy?” Lip stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and raised his eyebrows, waiting for his brother’s response.

Ian didn’t roll his eyes, just straightened up and nodded. “Yeah, yeah! And maybe uh, _you_ should throw it in Kash, right? Our friendly gay neighborhood pedophile.” Kash had stalked Ian for weeks while he worked at Kash N Grab, until Ian was tired of pushing away his advances and quit his job.

“Why, is he asking about me?”

“Yeah, he’s trying to go through all the Gallagher brothers.”

“Cool,” Lip said, grinning. Ian sniggered, feeling comforted by the familiarity and trust of his family.

He’d fix things. He’d talk to Mandy tomorrow, and he’d fix things with Mickey.

 

* * *

 

Ian sat in his usual spot in health class, nervously waiting for Mandy to walk in. She did, shooting him dirty glares and sitting far away from him. When the class ended, she grabbed her backpack and walked away quickly, avoiding confrontation, which was exactly what Ian was trying to have.

“Mandy, wait,” he called after her, quickening his strides to catch up. A hand came out of nowhere and shoved his chest so his back hit a row of lockers.

“Don’t even fucking try, Gallagher,” Mickey threatened. Ian shoved Mickey out of his face and huffed.

“It’s not what you fucking think,” he said, irritated and tired of taking the blame for something he didn’t do. The bell rang, signaling the end of passing period, and the hallway was almost empty.

Mickey lunged forward again, crashing Ian into the lockers with a thud, using his forearm against the other boy’s neck to keep him in place.

“I should’ve known you were always around for Mandy,” Mickey growled, hating the boy in front of him for using him, and hating himself for being affected by how physically close they were. Ian squirmed, and glared back.

“I didn’t try anything with Mandy, holy fuck. Can’t you listen for two fucking seconds? She came on to me, alright? And I tried to push her off and stop her from trying to fucking kiss me, Jesus.”

“Why the fuck would I believe you?” Mickey snarled, leaning closer.

Ian rolled his eyes and flipped their positions, shoving Mickey against the lockers, caging his head in between his arms and shoving a knee between Mickey’s legs. Both of their heart rates were up, eyes blown wide on a shared adrenaline rush. Ian pressed his hard on against Mickey’s thigh.

Oh, shit, Mickey thought.

“Yeah,” Ian breathed heavily, forcing himself not to ground against him. “Does this _feel_ like I’d be interested in your sister?”

Mickey stared back, eyes wide, overwhelmed with an intense need to _touch_ Ian, to press himself into him, to lose himself to the growing, heated desire flooding through his veins. He felt absolutely fucking trapped.

Ian was no better, shaking and barely holding on to the self-control leaking out of him with every second he spent with his lips inches away from Mickey’s. He wanted to go for it. God, he really wanted to fucking go for it, to kiss the dumbfounded look off of Mickey’s face, to dive in until all he could smell or taste or breathe was Mickey.

Mickey was so fucked. _So_ fucked. And what did Mickey Milkovich do when he felt like he had no way out? He shoved Ian off of him, cocked his arm back, punched Ian in the face and ran, hard-on hitting against his leg in his baggy jeans, tapping a friendly reminder that Mickey Milkovich was incredibly, ridiculously fucked.

 

* * *

 

Ian groaned and leaned his forehead against the locker, still breathing heavily. He could feel a bruise on his face starting to form, and grimaced. So much for fixing things with Mickey. At least he believed him, right? That had to be pretty convincing. Jesus Christ, he basically just came out to Mickey Milkovich. And he got punched in the face. Great.

But he knew that Mickey was definitely turned on as well. Armed with that knowledge and the memory of Mickey’s hard cock pressed against his hip, he was determined to fix things with the Milkovich siblings.

 

* * *

  

After school, Mickey leaned against a car in the parking lot, waiting for Mandy to walk home with her. He didn’t know what he was going to do the next time he saw Gallagher, and until he figured that out, he was avoiding that boy at all costs.

He saw Mandy head out of the school building, looking over her shoulder, and as expected, Gallagher following after her.

“Mandy, come the fuck on!”

“Get away from me you fucking perv! Don’t make me call Mickey again!”

“It won’t work, Mandy, I’ve already talked to him,” Ian said. That stopped Mandy in her tracks, and she turned around to face Ian.

“Told him what? Wait, no, don’t tell me, because I don’t fucking talk to rapists,” she snapped.

“Mandy—”

“Just wait ‘til Iggy gets home, and Colin, I’ll tell them too—”

“ _Mandy_ —”

“They’ll show you that you don’t fucking mess with—” Ian huffed exasperatedly, and reached out to grab Mandy’s face in his hands, and put her lips on his to shut her up.

It was effective, to say the least. She kissed him back, and he mechanically let her for a few more seconds before pulling back.

Mandy stared up at Ian with bright eyes, a smile slowly stretching across her face, and he looked back at her solemnly, heart beating hard in his chest. He’d never actually said the words out loud to someone before.

“Mandy…I’m gay.”

 

* * *

 

Mickey glared at the ground, kicking a pebble around as he waited for Mandy to finish talking to Ian. When he looked up and saw his sister kissing Ian, he didn’t know how to react. Was he supposed to be jealous? He felt mostly annoyed, honestly. Why was he even waiting for Mandy anyways? He turned and headed home on his own. At least Mandy wasn’t crying this time. What the fuck ever.

 

* * *

 

“For how long?” Mandy asked as they walked towards the park that consisted of a swing set and not much else.

“I don’t know, my whole life I guess? Maybe since Justin Timberlake,” Ian joked.

“Ew, no!” Mandy grimaced. “Are you sure you’re not just making this up? About being gay?”

“In this neighborhood? Why would I make that up?” Ian said. “Look, you and Lip are the only two that know, alright?”

“Mickey doesn’t know?”

Ian thought of his leg between Mickey’s, about Mickey’s chest heaving as Ian caged him in with his arms.

“I mean, uh, the subject hasn’t really uh, come up yet,” Ian lied. There wasn’t a lot of talking, but the _subject_ had definitely come _up_.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Mandy reassured him.

“Thanks.”

“You probably shouldn’t tell Mickey though, if you still wanna be friends with him I mean.”

“Yeah,” Ian said, thinking of Mickey’s eyes so dilated there was barely any blue left.

“It’s just that I thought maybe you were making this up, or, I don’t know, maybe you think I’m like…ugly or something,” Mandy mumbled.

Ian stopped walking, and Mandy looked at him expectantly. “Mandy, you’re beautiful.” She smiled.

“Look, this has nothing to do with the way you look. I’m just not wired that way,” he explained. Mandy raised an eyebrow and for a moment looked so much like Mickey that Ian wanted to roll his eyes. He placed grabbed her hand and placed it on his crotch and put his other hand on her boob, and sighed, waiting for the reaction he knew wasn’t going to come.

“See? Nothing.” Mandy looked at Ian out of the corner of her eye, reluctantly impressed by the experiment. They sat down on the swings.

“I could pretend to be your girlfriend at school and stuff. Then no one would ever give you a hard time,” Mandy volunteered. Ian wondered how he’d explain that to Mickey, but appreciated the offer nonetheless.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Sure,” Mandy said, reaching out to hold Ian’s hand. “It’d keep the creepy guys away from me. Besides, I’ve never actually had a real boyfriend before. Well, not that you’d be a real boyfriend, but a boyfriend that I could do things with, instead of just…yknow getting finger banged all the time.”

Ian started laughing, and held onto her hand tighter. One Milkovich down, one to go. Things were looking up.

 

* * *

 

It was almost dark by the time Ian walked Mandy home. Mickey watched in his peripheral vision as she stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. Annoyed, he closed the blinds, and sat back on the couch.

“So you’re cool with Gallagher now?” Mickey asked. Am I allowed to be friends with him now? was the real question in his head, never mind what had happened earlier. He decided that if he pretended it never happened, it never happened.

“Yeah. He apologized and stuff. We’re good now,” Mandy fabricated her response to fit the earlier situation, and headed into her room.

Slightly disgruntled, Mickey turned back to the TV. His sister and his best friend. Okay. Whatever.

A sharp tap at the window drew his attention away from the television. He pulled the blinds back apart and squinted into the darkness, only to see Ian Gallagher throw another rock at his fucking window. Jesus.

He opened the door to stand outside. “The fuck you want?”

Ian shrugged and cocked his head towards the direction of the school. “Dugouts?” Without waiting for a response, he started heading towards their usual spot, hoping that Mickey would follow him. And Mickey did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plsslplsplsplpls leave feedback :)


	4. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look, what you thought with Mandy—”  
> “Don’t want to hear it,” Mickey said, staring straight ahead. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were, easy and comfortable.  
> Ian struggled, knowing he didn’t owe Mickey an explanation but still wanting him to understand.  
> “I only kissed her at school to get her to shut up. She wouldn’t stop talking for long enough to let me explain.”  
> Mickey knew the appropriate answer to that statement was probably something like “Explain what?” but that wasn’t a conversation he was ready to have.  
> “You got a habit of kissing people to shut them up?” Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian.  
> Ian took the bait and waggled his eyebrows back, grinning. “Yeah, try me.”

They walked together in silence, side-eying each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. When they reached the dugouts, Ian turned to Mickey and finally spoke.

“Look, what you thought with Mandy—”

“Don’t want to hear it,” Mickey said, staring straight ahead. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were, easy and comfortable.

Ian struggled, knowing he didn’t owe Mickey an explanation but still wanting him to understand.

“I only kissed her at school to get her to shut up. She wouldn’t stop talking for long enough to let me explain.”

Mickey knew the appropriate answer to that statement was probably something like “Explain what?” but that wasn’t a conversation he was ready to have.

“You got a habit of kissing people to shut them up?” Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian.

Ian took the bait and waggled his eyebrows back, grinning. “Yeah, try me.”

Mickey let out a sound that was between a scoff and a laugh, and muttered as he pulled out a cigarette, “Kiss me and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

The threat was so weak Ian couldn’t help but laugh, much harder than he intended. He was just so relieved that things were okay with Mickey again, and he could feel the stress leaking out of his body with every laugh. Mickey rolled his eyes and tried not to smile, shoving the other boy when he doubled over and continued laughing.

“Are you fucking high?” Mickey questioned.

In between laughs, Ian tried to calm down. “No, I’m—” he let out a few more peals of laughter “—I’m fine. Give me a couple minutes though,” he said, pulling out a joint from his pocket, “and I will be.”

Mickey grinned, tossed his cigarette aside and stole the blunt from Ian to light. A few minutes later, the two boys were sitting next to each other on the ground leaning against the concrete wall.

“Shit this is…amazing,” Ian said slowly, soaking in the heightened sensations.

Mickey looked over at him and broke into soft giggles. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

They passed the joint back and forth in silence, enjoying the quiet of the night and each other’s company after the drama of the entire day.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

Mickey waited for the usual thumping of his heart whenever someone asked him that, but it didn’t come. Ian took his silence as acquiescence.

“How come you’re always so dirty?”

“What?” Mickey asked, a grin spreading across his face.

“How come you always got…dirt all over you?” It wasn’t that Ian minded or anything, he was just curious.

“Oh.” Mickey frowned, thinking about how to explain something he wasn’t always necessarily conscious of. “It covers the scars, I guess,” he explained, exhaling, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “Bruises and shit.”

While Ian had guessed Mickey’s home situation, he didn’t recognize the connection between that and Mickey’s appearance. He didn’t know what to say, and couldn’t stop himself from gazing at the other boy’s face, noticing details like the dark eyelashes over his cheeks. He was overcome with a deep need to protect Mickey, but in their current time and place, there was no danger to protect Mickey from. Mickey looked so relaxed, and Ian briefly wondered if that’s what Mickey looked like when he was asleep. Ian dragged his index finger through the dirt beside him, and reached over to wipe it on Mickey’s cheek.

“The fuck?” Mickey opened an eye.

“How do you cope?” Ian asked.

“Cope with what?”

“All the shit that goes on.”

“Shit’s always going on, man,” Mickey said lightly, closing his eyes again.  

“When it gets really bad?” Ian prodded further. He just wanted to be reassured that Mickey had some way of helping himself deal with his problems. After a few long moments of silence, when Ian was almost convinced Mickey wouldn’t answer, Mickey spoke.

“There’s this abandoned building a few blocks away. Construction project gone wrong. Uh, sometimes I’ll go there. Drink. Then shoot the empty bottles.”

“You have a gun?”

“Don’t need to be an officer to own a gun, Gallagher.”

Ian pictured Mickey holding a gun, and for whatever reason it made him feel warm inside. On a separate note, he could also relate to the allure of holding a weapon in your hands, the power that came with a perfect posture and the strength it took not to jump from the kickback. The satisfaction that came with executing a perfect shot.

“Makes you feel in control, huh?”

Mickey seemed surprised by how quickly Ian reached that conclusion. “Somethin’ like that,” he said, passing the joint to Ian. “That why you in ROTC?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Ian repeated, feeling drowsiness tug him to the edge of sleep. “How’s school going?”

Mickey snorted. “What kind of stupid fucking question is that?”

“Are you glad you came back?” Are you glad you met me?

“Uh, I guess, yeah. Might be the top of my class in math.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah. Teacher told me the other day,” Mickey said with a dry laugh. “Shitheads in my year aren’t too good with numbers, I guess.”

“Shit. Told ya you were a fuckin’ nerd,” Ian teased, not even bothering to hide how proud he was of his friend.

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey said, grinning and closing his eyes, planning to just rest for a bit. It had been a long day.

Not too long after, his head drooped down to hit Ian’s shoulder. That act alone would have made Ian the happiest kid in the South Side, but Ian was already asleep, shifting unconsciously to lean his head against Mickey’s.

 

* * *

 

“What do we have here?” teased a singsong voice.

Ian and Mickey jolted awake, hitting the backs of their heads against the concrete wall, and groaning at their stiff necks.

Karen swung her way over and shoved her hands in her pockets, jumping giddily. “Good morning, lovebirds!”

Mickey rubbed his eyes as Ian pulled back his jacket to blearily look at his watch.

“Fuck are you doing here?” Mickey croaked, voice hoarse with sleep. The corner of Ian’s mouth lifted at the sound, appreciating how much better the sleepy voice sounded in person than over the phone.

“You have a math test in half an hour, asshole,” Karen reminded. That was enough to shake Mickey awake, and he left with a muttered “oh, fuck”, leaving Karen and a very sleepy Ian at the dugouts. As soon as Mickey left, Karen kicked a still sitting Ian hard in the thigh.

“OW, what the fuck?”

Karen’s cheery demeanor was gone, and now she was shooting daggers at Ian.

“If I catch you messing with Mickey, I swear to God,” Karen threatened.

“What? I’m not messing with Mickey!” Ian protested. Couldn’t he catch a break? Why were people always blaming him for doing things he didn’t do?

“Yeah?” Karen kicked him again, and he rolled away and started to stand up. “Then what the fuck is up with you and Mandy?” she accused.

“She’s just a friend, pretending to be my girlfriend, my beard, whatever,” Ian said.

“Oh,” Karen paused. “Okay then.” She felt relieved, partly for Mickey, and if she admitted it, which she didn’t, partly for herself.

“What’s up with you and Mickey, anyways?” Ian figured if they were going to be throwing accusations around, he might as well get a confirmation from Karen too.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Karen said, smiling sweetly, and skipped away. Ian rolled his eyes and headed home. He could skip his first class (PE), change his clothes and take a shower, and still get back to school on time to walk Mickey to his next class.

 

* * *

 

As Ian walked alongside Mickey to Mickey’s next class, it suddenly occurred to him that he was, for appearance purposes, dating Mandy, and walking her brother to class while neglecting her didn’t make for great fake boyfriend material.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“I should…I should probably be walking with Mandy.”

Mickey ignored the voice in his head that immediately protested, and said “Doesn’t fucking matter man, do whatever the hell you want.”

Ian pursed his lips, looking a bit torn, then nodded to himself and left to find Mandy.

Doesn’t matter, Mickey reminded himself. Doesn’t fucking matter. And if Mickey was in a bad mood for the entirety of his next class, that was his business and completely irrelevant to this change of circumstance.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t you usually follow Mickey around all day?” Mandy asked after Ian appeared outside the door of her second class.

“Yeah, but you’re my girlfriend,” he said, nudging her arm with his. She smiled in response and linked their arms together. Meanwhile, Ian couldn’t stop thinking about how he and Mickey quite literally slept with each other the night before. 

“What’s got you looking so dreamy?”

“What?”

“You got this…face.”

“Wow, you sure got a way with words, Mandy,” Ian teased.

“Shut up,” she said, grinning. “Come on, tell me. What is it?”

Ian chewed on his bottom lip before responding. “How do you know if a guy you’ve been hanging out with likes you?”

“Like, if a guy wants to sleep with you?” Mandy clarified.

“Nah, I wouldn’t ask you that, I mean, clearly you couldn’t tell with me, so…”

Mandy punched Ian in the arm as he started laughing.

“Asshole,” she said, feeling slightly self-conscious. “So like, how to tell if a guy actually likes you?”

“Yeah.”

“Easy,” she said. “Does he get that look in his eye when he’s with you?”

“What look?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” she said ominously, and left him with that as she went inside her classroom.

 

* * *

 

Mickey couldn’t stop himself from feeling slightly triumphant when he saw Ian waiting for him after class during lunch.

“Thought you had to hang with Mandy,” he said, trying to hide his excitement.

“Yeah, I’m going to see her soon, just came by to uh, check for something.”

Mickey wasn’t disappointed with that answer, or so he told himself. He quirked his eyebrows and stayed silent. A few seconds later, he noticed from his peripheral vision that Ian was studying him with a strange expression on his face.

“The fuck are you lookin’ at?”

“Nothing,” Ian responded quickly, straightening up and avoiding eye contact. “I’ll uh, see you later,” he said, and left.

Mickey rolled his eyes and ignored his unease as he rounded the corner to meet Karen.

“How’d the math test go?” she asked.

Mickey shrugged. “It was okay.”

“You’re not having lunch with Ian today?”

“Nah, he needs to hang out with his new girlfriend,” Mickey bit out, not bitterly at all. Not at all.

Karen recognized the jealousy for what it was, and started giggling as they headed towards their usual spot on the bleachers.

“What?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she said once they started climbing their way up.

“What?” Mickey repeated.

“Mandy’s just Ian’s beard. You know, pretending to be his girlfriend so people won’t find out he’s gay.”

That stopped Mickey in his tracks. He had kind of picked up on the fact that Ian was gay, but hearing it confirmed was a different story, and definitely made it harder to sort out his own feelings.

“How the hell do you know?” he asked.

“I asked him,” Karen said nonchalantly, sitting down. Mickey moved to sit next to her as he tried to digest the new information.

“And he just fuckin’ told you?”

“Yeah,” Karen shrugged. “I mean I may have kicked him around a little, but didn’t scar his pretty face, no worries.”

“Huh,” Mickey said. “I punched him in the face yesterday.”

“Aw, is that how Mickey treats his crush?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey said, rolling his eyes. Yeah, okay, so he felt a bit territorial about the guy. He’d feel the same way about Karen if some kid just swooped in and took her away from him too. That didn’t make her his crush, so he didn’t see why that would make Ian his crush. “Thought he was messing with Mandy.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not, so don’t worry about it. She’s his beard.”

Mickey mulled over the idea before muttering, “Maybe I should get a fuckin’ beard.”

“What the hell do you think I am?”

“What?”

“I spend tons of time with you in public. Even more time with you at home. Hell, why do you think I let your dad ogle me half naked?”

“Dunno, maybe you thought he was cute.”

Karen hit him in response, and he laughed, thinking about what she said. It took a few seconds for Karen’s words to sink in, but once they did, Mickey realized that while some feelings were confusing, he was sure of the gratitude he felt towards his best friend.

 

* * *

 

Ian let himself in through the door and found his family and neighbor bustling around, preparing for Movie Night. It was something they did once in awhile, mostly for the younger kids. Fiona pulled him to the side in the kitchen.

“Hey, where the hell were you last night?” she scolded. She knew that Lip and Ian sometimes liked to stay out late, which was fine by her as long as they were in the house for breakfast. The flaw in this tactic was that she wouldn’t notice or worry about her brothers until the morning came. She was also working most of the day, so she didn’t catch Ian when he came home to change.

“I uh, fell asleep at the dugouts. With Mickey. Sorry about that,” he said, shuffling on his feet and feeling guilty for causing the worry etched in her face.

“Shit, you gotta let me know ahead of time if you’re going to do that. It was a school night, you got to school okay?” she said, expression softening.

“Sorry, we really didn’t plan it. And yeah, it was fine,” he reassured.

Fiona tried to smile to show she was just glad he was safe, but was distracted by the ding of the microwave.

“Come on, head over, it’s Movie Night!” she said excitedly, removing the popcorn from the microwave and bringing it to the living room. “Hell hath no fury like popcorn burned!”

“Steve comin’?” V asked from the couch.

“Hope so!”

“Are you guys going to make a baby while we watch, because that’s gonna make me throw up,” Carl said with a grimace, standing in front of the TV.

Fiona leaned in close to her little brother’s face and teased, “Billions and billions of sperm!”

“EW!”

“Turn on the TV already!” Lip called, passing a bottle of beer to Ian.

“Where’s Debbie?” Ian asked, looking around for his redheaded sister.

“She was over at Sheila’s,” Fiona explained, pulling Liam into her lap as she sat down and threw the remote at Lip. Lip threw the remote at Carl, who turned on the TV.

The door opened again, and this time it was Steve, Fiona’s boyfriend.

“Hey, am I late for Movie Night?” he asked, leaning over the couch to kiss Fiona.

“Nah, you’re just in time.”

Steve settled down and reached for the popcorn. “Popcorn’s burnt,” he commented. Very constructively, Ian noticed wryly. Ian didn’t care much for Fiona’s boyfriends, as long as she was happy. It helped that Steve was rich enough to contribute once in awhile.

“Yeah, our microwave is a piece of shit,” Fiona said.

Ian watched the entire exchange wondering if he should have invited Mickey over for Movie Night. He was busy imagining Mickey snuggled on his couch with the rest of his family, trying to keep his commentary to himself with such a big audience, when the door opened again.

Debbie walked in, arms stiff at her sides, face paler than usual, looking like she just saw a ghost.

“Debs? Honey, what happened?” Fiona was the first to speak.

“What, Dad have one too many again?” Lip predicted. Ian hated when the younger siblings had to deal with Frank.

“You just gotta ignore him when he’s like that, Debs,” Ian pitched in.

“Why do you always blame Dad first?” Debbie asked, directing the question at Fiona.

“Well, who else is there?” Fiona looked confused.

Debbie’s face crumpled in like she was going to cry. “She’s over at Sheila’s,” she said, voice wavering.

“Who?” Steve interjected.

“Monica.”


	5. Unplanned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“How do you cope?”_  
>  Mickey zipped up his jacket and shoved his hands into his pockets, wondering what could have happened to Ian in the span of a day.  
>  _“Cope with what?”_  
>  If Ian felt out of control, it was pretty easy for Mickey to guess where he went.  
>  _“All the shit that goes on.”_  
>  Following that line of reasoning, it only took a step further for Mickey to guess what Ian took from his room.  
>  _“Shit’s always going on, man.”_  
>  He wasn’t sure how urgent he should be. Did Ian even need him?  
>  _“When it gets really bad?”_  
>  His footsteps quickened anyways, because so what if he showed up earlier than Ian expected? As he neared the abandoned building, he heard gunshots and sighed in relief. Strange, being comforted by the sound of gunshots. But the harsh bang confirmed that he was right, that Ian was here, that he knew his best friend well enough to be where he needed him to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the updated tags! There is a referenced suicide.

“Who the hell’s Monica?”

The room was filled with heavy, suffocating silence until Lip broke it.

“Our mother.”

Fiona, the first to recover, turned towards Debbie. “Debs…”

“What do you care? You’ll be living with Steve in that house he bought next door!” Debbie cried, running up the stairs.

V, Ian, Lip, and Fiona all turned towards Steve at the same time with varying degrees of horror.

“Surprise,” he said weakly.

Ian swallowed hard and headed towards the front door, grabbing his jacket. “I’m going out.”

“Ian, come on, wait,” Fiona pleaded, trying to regain some sort of control over the situation, but Ian was already out the door.

 

* * *

 

_“Who the hell’s Monica?” “Our mother.”_

_What kind of mother leaves her kids? What kind of mother leaves her kids with such a shitty father?_

_“He hates me.” “It’s because you look the most like mom.”_

_“All of you lot, ungrateful brats, no wonder your mother up and left!”_

_How could she?_

Ian ran, feet hitting hard against the concrete, trying with every step to shove his thoughts and memories away. He didn’t slow down until he slammed into the Milkovich door, pounding with his fist.

“What the fuck?” said Mandy, opening the door to see a breathless and distraught Ian. “What’s wrong?”

“Is Mickey here?” he asked desperately.

“No, he’s out.”

“FUCK!” Ian yelled and kicked the wall in frustration. Mandy jumped back a little, wary, but this kind of anger was nothing she never saw before.

“Look, you can wait inside if you want?” she said, stepping aside. He barreled in wordlessly and headed straight for Mickey’s room, opening drawers and tossing things aside.

“Ian, what the fuck? I said you could wait inside not trash the whole damn place,” Mandy said, leaning against the doorway, watching Ian wreak havoc.

Back facing Mandy, Ian found what he was looking for, shoved it in his jacket pocket, and turned around to leave without acknowledging Mandy at all.

“What’d you take?” she asked, following him back to the front door.

“Tell Mick I came by, will you?” he said without making eye contact.

“What’d you take?” she yelled after him again, but he only yanked his hood over his head and ran off again.

Mandy rolled her eyes and shut the door, wandering back into the kitchen to fix something to eat. She didn’t understand why girls had so much bad rep for being overemotional, not when all the men in her life lost their cool so easily. Less than an hour later, Mickey came home. He had barely taken off his jacket before Mandy greeted him.

“Hey assface, Ian was looking for you.”

“Huh?”

“He came by like half an hour ago or something? Took something from your room and just ran off.”

“What the hell, and you let him?”

“What was I supposed to do? He looked really out of control. Never really seen him like that before,” she said, letting a bit of concern leak into her voice.

Mickey sighed, shrugging his jacket back on. “Alright, see you later then I guess,” he said, heading out the door.

“You know where to find him?” Mandy asked.

Mickey paused, scratching at his head. “Yeah,” he answered, and he left.

 

* * *

 

_“How do you cope?”_

Mickey zipped up his jacket and shoved his hands into his pockets, wondering what could have happened to Ian in the span of a day.

_“Cope with what?”_

If Ian felt out of control, it was pretty easy for Mickey to guess where he went.

_“All the shit that goes on.”_

Following that line of reasoning, it only took a step further for Mickey to guess what Ian took from his room.

_“Shit’s always going on, man.”_

He wasn’t sure how urgent he should be. Did Ian even need him?

_“When it gets really bad?”_

His footsteps quickened anyways, because so what if he showed up earlier than Ian expected? As he neared the abandoned building, he heard gunshots and sighed in relief. Strange, being comforted by the sound of gunshots. But the harsh bang confirmed that he was right, that Ian was here, that he knew his best friend well enough to be where he needed him to be.

 

* * *

 

Mandy heard the front door open from the kitchen as she stirred the pot of mac and cheese with a spoon.

“Is Ian okay?” she called. There was no response, only a quiet shuffling. Mandy poked her head out of the kitchen and saw Karen taking off her jacket.

“Hey,” Karen greeted.

“Hey,” Mandy said uncertainly, resting the spoon on her lips.

“Is Mickey here?” Karen asked.

Mandy rolled her eyes and headed back into the kitchen. “No. Why is everyone always looking for Mickey?” she added petulantly.

Karen followed her into the kitchen and sniffed at the mac and cheese.

“Who else was looking for Mickey? Ian?”

“Yeah,” Mandy grumbled.

“Oh. Nice,” Karen said, dipping her finger into the pot.

“It’s hot,” Mandy warned. Karen ignored her and swiped some cheese onto her finger and licked it casually, pretending she didn’t notice the way Mandy swallowed.

“Mm. My mom never lets me do this,” Karen commented. Mandy didn’t respond, only continued to stir.

“Are you going to wait for Mickey?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Well, do you want some?” Mandy motioned towards the pot.

Karen already had dinner, but she wasn’t going to turn down a meal with Mandy. She never got to spend time with Mandy, even though she wanted to. She really, really wanted to. There was something about the way Mandy glared at the entire world, just daring it to try and break her that was reminiscent of her brother’s harsh mannerisms but at the same time wholly her own. The sharp angles of her face from her cheekbones, her jawline, her chin, the slope of her nose and the way a corner of her mouth would tip up slowly were all uniquely hers and kind of drove Karen crazy. Karen wanted to see what Mandy looked like when she laughed, wanted to watch her nose point in the air as she tipped her head back, wanted to count the eyelashes that brushed her cheek. Before tonight, Karen never had the excuse to get to know Mandy, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

“Yes please,” she said, grinning at Mandy, who offered a hesitant smile in return. Mandy knew Karen didn’t come here for her, but maybe she’d stay for her company.

After they finished dinner (Karen asked for seconds), Mandy was pleasantly surprised by Karen’s willingness to help clean up. It was nice having another girl in the house, she realized, and wondered why she never thought about befriending Karen before. Not that they were friends now after one shared meal, but they could be.

Meanwhile, Karen was trying to figure out how likely it was for Mandy to ever be interested in her. Both girls had their fair share of rumors and reputations, but Karen had never heard of Mandy with a girl. For a moment, she envied Mickey and Ian’s easy friendship that was a ticking time bomb of sexual tension. She didn’t know if she could have a chance with Mandy, but at least she could stick around and find out.

Mandy was wiping down the kitchen table when Karen leaned against the doorway with a bottle of vodka in one hand and two shot glasses in the other. “You up for this?”

“Who carries around a bottle of vodka and shot glasses?”

“I was going to play drinking games with Mickey but he wasn’t here, so…”

“I’ll drink you under the table,” Mandy said with a grin, tossing the washcloth into the sink.

“That’s what Mickey tries to tell me, every time.”

Five shots each and less than an hour later, both girls were sufficiently drunk, giggling and lying down on Mandy’s bed. Mandy started to notice things she never paid attention to before, like how soft Karen’s skin was, or how cute her smile and laugh was. Or how Karen kept finding excuses to touch her, even if it was just to fake-shove her.

“Let’s play a game,” Karen said suddenly.

“Okay.”

Karen sat up slowly and tumbled to the ground, sitting cross-legged. She patted the floor in front of her. “Come here,” she beckoned, and Mandy obediently followed, movements clumsy and slow.

“Okay, have you played gay chicken before?”

“No?”

“So what we do is, we move in to kiss each other, and whoever backs out first loses,” Karen explained with a small laugh as she tried to keep a straight face. This was it. This was her brilliant plan. 

“This the kind of game you play with Mickey?” Mandy asked.

“No!” Karen said, cracking up. “That wouldn’t be gay chicken. Come on. Scared you’ll lose?”

Mandy scoffed. “You wish.”

 _Not really_ , Karen thought to herself as she leaned forward. Mandy surprised her by putting a hand on her knee and sliding it up her thigh. Karen tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned even closer, angling her head until their lips were only an inch apart.

“If you want to back out, now’s the time,” Karen whispered.

“Who said I want to back out?”

When their lips touched, all Mandy could think was that she had never, ever, in her entire life, been kissed this softly before. Karen’s lips were soft and slow; everything about their movements was slow. Mandy moved her hand further up Karen’s thigh to reach around and pull at her hip, edging her closer and closer, until Karen was eventually sitting in her lap, one hand around her neck and the other cupping her face.

Mandy moved her hands hesitantly to stroke over Karen’s back before resting at her waist, and when she pulled her even closer, Karen let out a soft sound followed by a slow roll of her hips, until gradually she began grinding against Mandy. Without disconnecting their lips, she guided Mandy’s hands lower and lower until Mandy instinctively grabbed onto her ass. At this point, Karen licked past Mandy’s lips, ignoring the aftertaste of vodka, knowing she was no better.

It was amazing, really, was all that Mandy could think. She felt like her tongue was being gently coaxed rather than aggressively prodded at, and as Karen’s chest pressed against her own, she felt herself getting wetter and wetter. Tentatively, she reached under Karen’s shirt to unclip her bra, and Karen moved to do the same. When they both leaned back for long enough to remove their shirts, Mandy’s breath caught in her throat as she saw Karen’s hair fall around her collarbones. Karen looped her arms out of her bra and grinned, confidently leaning forward and grabbing Mandy’s hands, placing them on her chest and again Mandy took over from there, cupping her breasts and running her thumbs across her nipples. 

As Mandy moved her head to place wet kisses down Karen’s neck, the blonde threw her head back and arched her back, pushing her breasts harder into Mandy’s hands, grinding faster against the other girl. She twisted her own hand around Mandy’s arm to reach down and rub against her own clit. Her moans grew louder and higher in pitch and Mandy grasped harder, pinching at her nipples. When Mandy bit down on her neck, Karen keened, letting out the last “ _oh_ ”, and sighing heavily afterwards. She removed her own hand and placed it against Mandy’s lips, and watched greedily as Mandy sucked in her fingers. A few moments later, Karen’s hands rested on Mandy’s shoulders and she leaned forward, pushing Mandy onto her back.

“My turn,” she said sweetly as she began to focus on the girl in front of her. Mandy stared up at her with wide eyes as Karen lowered her head to place a kiss on the center of Mandy’s chest, before breaking eye contact and moving to focus on licking at her nipples until they were both hard. Mandy was biting on her lower lip, hands grasping uselessly at her sides. Karen trailed a line of kisses down past her belly button, and moved to unfasten Mandy’s jeans, peeling them off almost reverently but leaving the underwear on, and kissing her way up between her legs.

She nosed teasingly at Mandy’s crotch, before licking a slow long stripe from the bottom up, triumphant that Mandy was already wet. Mandy’s hips jerked slightly, but she stayed still otherwise. Karen repeated the motion a few more times before sitting up to remove the last barrier between her tongue and Mandy’s clit.

“Shit,” Mandy hissed when Karen dived back in. “Fuck,” she whispered as Karen did something amazing with her tongue. “Oh my god,” she cried out as her hips began to roll upwards on their own accord. This was by no means the first time she’d been eaten out, but it was the first time she felt like she could enjoy the means rather than the end. 

Soon Mandy’s fingers were tangled in Karen’s hair and with her brows furrowed and her lips in a perfect “o”, she came moaning Karen’s name, riding out the waves of her orgasm. When Mandy stopped jerking, Karen lifted her head and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and collapsed on the floor next to her, sighing contentedly. 

Mandy twisted her head so she was facing Karen. 

“Do you want me to return the favor?” she offered.

“Another time,” Karen said. “Because we’re definitely doing this again.”

 

* * *

 

Mickey climbed the stairs by twos and only slowed down to steady his breathing a few steps from the top floor. He saw Ian with what was probably perfect posture, shooting blanks at broken beer bottles, knocking 3 down in a row.

“Not bad, Gallagher,” he said with a small smile. Ian ignored him, walked over to put up three new targets, and resumed his position to shoot again.

“What happened?” Mickey tried again. Ian repeated the same motions, and did not acknowledge Mickey’s presence. The only sound was the loud bang of the gun, but neither of them reacted to the noise.

“Hey,” Mickey said, moving in close enough to see that Ian was slightly shaking, barely keeping it together. “What the fuck happened?”

Ian ignored him again and put up three new targets, and Mickey rolled his eyes but waited patiently. Ian lifted the gun one more time, but didn’t shoot. He held the gun unsteadily in place for several long seconds before lowering it, shoving it at Mickey, and sitting down against the wall. Mickey hastily stuffed the gun inside his coat pocket and followed Ian.

“My mom,” Ian started. The rage in his voice was almost tangible, and Mickey embraced it. “Came back out of fucking nowhere.” He clenched and unclenched his hands, dragging his knuckles across the cement on the ground.

“Didn’t even come by to see us,” he continued through gritted teeth, and then let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t know why I’m so fucking mad. She didn’t even come by to see us. Who the fuck cares, right?”

 _You care_ , thought Mickey. _And if you care, then I care_ , he added silently, shifting closer to Ian, unsure how to alleviate the situation.

“You can’t just leave and come back out of FUCKING NOWHERE!” Ian yelled across the empty floor. “Leaving us with Frank? FRANK? Five fucking kids for Fiona to raise, and what, you just come back? Fuck.”

“Fuck,” he repeated, lifting his now red knuckles from the ground and shoving his hand in his pocket as Mickey watched quietly.

“She left when I was ten.” Ian thought about Monica tiptoeing into their room, kissing them all goodnight. She only kissed them goodnight when she was feeling really, really great. He thought about her warm lips on his forehead and her shaky hands brushing his hair away from his face, the whispered apology in his ear. He didn’t know what she was sorry for until he was lying awake in the dark, listening to the engine of a car that they didn’t own. 

Mickey wasn’t familiar with comfort, neither giving nor receiving. His memories of his own mother were blurry, although he could remember her pursed lips in a hard line when Terry lost his temper. He remembered her quiet but strong attempts to shield her children from their father, until she couldn’t take it anymore. 

He remembered holding Mandy’s hand underneath the covers as they waited for someone to explain to a five year old and a four year old why they couldn’t use the bathroom for the rest of the day. Why their mom wasn’t there anymore. His mother left him too, in her own way. But he liked to think she was doing better now.

Ian didn’t know what his plan was when he ran out of his house. He didn’t have a plan when Mandy told him Mickey wasn’t there, only knew he was grappling for some sense of control when he remembered the abandoned building and the gun that Mickey owned. He had plans for his future, sure, but those didn’t help him when he ended up in situations he didn’t foresee. It was ridiculous really, that even for a moment he thought he could be prepared for anything, only to be jarred back into reality by the fact that he only had control over himself. 

Mickey pulled himself out of his memories, cleared his throat, and turned to look Ian in the eye for the first time that night. “So what do you want to do now?” he asked. 

Ian didn’t have a plan for this moment, either, although he sure as hell had imagined it countless of times. But as with most important moments, they didn’t usually go the way he planned for them to. Ignoring every voice in his head that yelled for him to wait, he leaned over and kissed his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and so sorry for the delay between chapters! The next one should be up over the next week or so, if I can stay on top of schoolwork. As always, feedback is so encouraging and greatly appreciated.
> 
> (LMAO BET Y'ALL THOUGHT IAN AND MICKEY WERE GONNA FUCK sorry i'm sorry i'm so tired it's 4am im so sorry hang in there we'll get there eventually)


	6. Lunar Phase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was hurried, rushed, like Ian thought he could cut the chances of him backing out or of Mickey leaning away with the speed at which he pressed his lips to his friend’s, landing on the corner of Mickey’s mouth, almost missing it entirely. But he stayed there, hanging on the edge, eyes closed and heart pounding, praying for a miracle.

It was hurried, rushed, like Ian thought he could cut the chances of him backing out or of Mickey leaning away with the speed at which he pressed his lips to his friend’s, landing on the corner of Mickey’s mouth, almost missing it entirely. But he stayed there, hanging on the edge, eyes closed and heart pounding, praying for a miracle.

Mickey realized what was going on a split second before it actually happened and his eyes flew open in time to watch Ian’s eyes flutter closed. Dammit, even his fuckin’ eyelashes were copper. He counted in his head for one second, two seconds, and when Ian still didn’t move, Mickey experimentally shifted his head further down so their lips could properly meet, and closed his eyes. There was no tongue, no movement at all; just two boys with their mouths pressed together in a kiss that lasted too long for comfort until Mickey pulled away.

It was eye contact and awkwardness and an unspoken “what next?” as the two looked at each other with equal parts fear and anticipation. Ian had made the first move, and it was Mickey’s turn now. He could either move backward or move forward, but he wasn’t prepared for the consequences either decision would have on their friendship.

Ian’s pursed lips told Mickey that Ian was holding himself back while he waited for a reaction. His red-rimmed eyes told Mickey that he could help distract Ian from the disaster in his life. He had the ability to. Mickey wanted to help Ian feel better, and so he listened to the parts of him that wanted this too—the strange yearning and discomfort in his chest that seemed like it could only be quelled by moving closer to Ian, the twitching of his lips that itched to reconnect—and reached for his best friend.

Soft. Mickey’s lips were too soft for the harsh words he spoke and tattooed across his knuckles, and that was the last coherent thought Ian had before he kissed Mickey back. The exhilaration flooded upwards from his butterfly-filled stomach to his pounding heart to his eager mouth and Ian knew that all rationale would be gone once it reached his brain. When Mickey’s lips opened slightly as they moved together again, Ian slipped his tongue in hesitantly, and then confidently when Mickey kissed him harder, opening up for more.

Mickey had one hand on Ian’s jaw and the other resting in Ian’s hair, and without letting go, he hastily moved up onto his knees. Ian did the same, pulling Mickey in closer by his waist, and letting out a soft groan when their jeans rubbed against each other. He pushed his hips forward for more contact, while shoving aside the fabric of Mickey’s jacket then slipping his hand underneath Mickey’s shirt to touch his skin. He could feel goosebumps under his fingertips and Mickey’s stomach tensed at Ian’s touch, before relaxing and leaning in, molding into Ian’s roaming hands. When Ian’s fingers brushed over his nipple, Mickey twitched involuntarily, tilting his hips and increasing the pressure between their hardening cocks. He bit down onto Ian’s lip in response, breathing hard and fast, only to push Ian away to shuck off his jacket and shirt. Ian quickly did the same, and then reached for Mickey’s belt as he leaned in to reconnect their lips.

With Ian’s shirt off, Mickey’s hands were everywhere, exploring Ian’s chest, scratching his abs, reaching around to skim over his back and grab onto his shoulders, all the while jerkily rutting against him and licking clumsily into his mouth. Ian had one hand supporting the back of Mickey’s head, and the other reaching into Mickey’s now unbuckled belt and jeans. Once his hand wrapped tightly around the base of Mickey’s cock, Mickey inhaled sharply, digging his nails into Ian’s skin and thrusting forward. Ian’s lips curled up into a smile at the response but soon transformed to an open “oh” when Mickey returned the favor with a firm upstroke, determined to have the upper hand.

Both boys had their eyebrows furrowed, concentrating on their respective tasks, knocking elbows and forearms as they panted on each other’s shoulders, hips twitching.

“Fuck,” Mickey whispered, and Ian couldn’t decide what he liked more: Mickey’s rough grip on his cock or knowing that he could make Mickey feel good and lose control this way.

“Yeah,” Ian breathed, stripping his hand tighter even as he felt his arm begin to grow sore. Didn’t jack off all those years to get tired now, he chided himself. Mickey sank his teeth into Ian’s shoulder, and Ian fumbled, letting out a small cry at the pain. At the sound, Mickey sucked more skin into his mouth, biting down harder, until he suddenly let go with a gasp, pushing Ian away.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck, hold on,” he panted, pulling his dick out of Ian’s grasp.

“What’s wrong?” Ian asked, mouth hanging open and chest heaving.

“We can’t do this here,” Mickey said, scanning the area for their clothes.

“Why not?”

Mickey glared at Ian incredulously. “You fuckin’ kidding me? This your first time? We don’t have any lube, smartass.”

“Oh.” Ian’s face, already flushed red, became a shade darker.

“What?” Mickey snapped and rubbed at his bottom lip, growing increasingly self-conscious of their situation.

“We actually do have lube—or I mean, I do.” Ian scratched the back of his head then took out his wallet and withdrew a condom and a packet of lube.

Mickey stared at Ian with his eyebrows raised high, waiting for an explanation.

“I don’t really—I mean—it’s more convenient this way,” Ian mumbled. “Don’t really have time to carry a whole tube if you’re just fucking in the alleyways,” he explained.

Mickey continued to stare and glare, his left eye beginning to twitch.

“What?” Ian asked defensively.

“What you waiting for?”

Ian didn’t hesitate any longer and held the condom wrapper by his teeth as he ripped open the packet of lube, moving towards Mickey, who automatically turned around, bracing his hands against the wall. Neither of them had properly taken off their pants, and while Mickey shuffled awkwardly, keeping his pants around his ankles, Ian kicked off his shoes and pants, keeping his socks on.

Jackpot, Ian thought as he happily and accurately took Mickey’s stance as a sign that he bottomed. He coated his fingers on his right hand with a third of the packet, and paused for a moment to admire Mickey’s ass. Placing his hand on the left cheek, he squeezed and bit his lip when Mickey’s knees twitched. One finger circled the rim before inserting slowly, and Ian couldn’t help himself but grasp onto Mickey’s ass tighter. Mickey’s responses became a language of small, nearly unnoticeable movements, like the soft scratching of his fingers against the wall, or the subtle shudder of his shoulder blades. Seeing Mickey so tightly wound up but so vulnerable at the same time made Ian grip harder onto his control, forcing himself to take his time and focus on helping Mickey relax.

Considering Ian previously couldn’t even assume that Mickey was gay, it was safe to say that Mickey was pretty deeply closeted. Mickey didn’t give off the impression of someone who wasn’t comfortable with his own body, not with his legs splayed as wide as they could go only constricted by his jeans, but Ian didn’t think that Mickey had too much experience with others, especially as a bottom in this neighborhood. With that in mind, Ian didn’t add in more fingers until he felt Mickey hotly clenching around him. Three fingers in, Ian let go of the ass cheek he was massaging and moved his left hand to pull himself closer to Mickey, spitting the condom packet he held in his mouth onto the ground, breathing against the back of Mickey’s neck, kissing across his back and shoulders. Remembering Mickey’s teeth on his own shoulder, Ian bit down onto the side of Mickey’s neck. Mickey tensed minutely, but then relaxed and leaned back into Ian, exhaling deeply and shakily. The sound of Mickey’s attempt of a measured breath prompted a groan from Ian, who leaned his forehead against Mickey’s back and stilled his fingers.

“Can I fuck you now?” Ian asked.

Mickey huffed out a low laugh. “Yeah,” he said, shifting on his feet and incrementally pushing his bottom out further. “Yeah, you can fuck me now.”

Ian leaned down to pick up the condom packet and hastily tore at the foil. Once the condom was on (it took awhile because he was nervous because his hands were shaking because God, this was Mickey) and he spread the rest of the lube over his cock, he put both of his hands on Mickey’s ass, spreading the cheeks apart and shifting his hips to reach Mickey’s asshole. After a few missed tries, Mickey looked over his shoulder and raised one sweaty eyebrow, to which Ian frowned harder and aimed again.

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey muttered, and slapped Ian’s hands away to replace them with his own. He felt almost silly in his position, leaned over with his butt sticking out, but the thought quickly vanished when he felt Ian finally fit the tip of his cock into him.

Mouth hanging open in half shock and half bliss, Ian slowly slid into Mickey, unable to keep back the “unh” that escaped his mouth when he bottomed out. For Mickey, the pressure was almost unbearable at first. It felt like he was going to explode, or worse, split apart. His hands curled into fists and he gritted his teeth when Ian pulled out again a few inches, bracing himself for the impact. Picking up on all the little signs even amidst his lust, Ian stilled, resting his hands on Mickey’s hips.

“You okay?” He asked, breathing heavily. “Do you want to stop?”

“Hold on,” Mickey said, voice strained. He just needed some time to adjust, that’s all. They stayed together that way, with Ian still half inside of Mickey, hands rubbing soothingly up and down his sides. Ian could feel it when Mickey relaxed: first his hands unfurled, then the muscles around his neck flexed, and then—“Oh, fuck,” Ian let out a guttural groan, almost unable to keep his eyes open to watch Mickey move and take him, clench around him. When Mickey couldn’t sink back any further, he moaned, low and drawn out at the feeling of being filled, so completely and fully in a way he could enjoy.

Ian grasped Mickey’s hips tighter and steadied his footing. He pulled Mickey against him, trying not to come too quickly at the feel of Mickey around him, so close to him. He was about to lean in and ask Mickey how he wanted it when Mickey muttered his name encouragingly, spurring him on. He thrust harder, barely holding off the desire that threatened to take over, and they filled the air with their pants and grunts.

“Harder,” Mickey gasped.

“Yeah?” Ian tried to tease, but failed miserably at the sound of Mickey’s voice and at his quick, desperate nodding.

“Yeah, fuck me harder.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Ian grunted, slamming his hips against Mickey faster and harder, hands slippery with sweat, focusing on all the small sounds Mickey was willing to give him. His orgasm built suddenly and knocked through him, white-hot pleasure flooding his veins as he jerked clumsily, choking out Mickey’s name. The afterglow that settled around him as he melted onto Mickey distracted him from the embarrassment of coming first. When Mickey felt Ian’s cock twitch inside him, he reached down for his own cock to finish what Ian couldn’t.

Ignoring the Ian now breathing heavily around him, Mickey replayed his newest memories of Ian groaning, grappling hands all over his body. Ian was never great at playing it cool, but it still made Mickey feel good to know that he was the one making Ian lose control. He was the one that Ian wanted, he was the one that made Ian come, made Ian moan, made Ian feel good, and the way Ian cried his name, and he was so, he was so, fuck, he was so—Mickey lurched forward, mouth opened in a silent cry as he came all over the wall in front of him—so good.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mickey leaned against the wall as Ian leaned against him, and they stayed that way for a few moments until the vulnerability finally caught up to Mickey. It crept in slowly, first as the chill and then as the uncertainty masked as goosebumps over his skin. The pleasant sated feeling low in his gut began to churn, until it was a fluttering reminder, a whisper to run.

He gently elbowed Ian off and pulled up his pants, trying to hide the mess. They cleaned up the best they could and got dressed separately, occasionally wordlessly throwing a hoodie or a shoe. To Ian, it was finally quiet, as he was sufficiently distracted and relieved from his earlier turmoil about Monica’s return. For Mickey, however, the deafening spiraling thoughts had just begun.

Ian reached for Mickey once they were ready to go, trying to appease the growing uneasiness at Mickey’s complete silence, thinking to share his peace and contentment. He angled his head towards Mickey’s lips, but was cut by Mickey’s sharp retort.

“Kiss me and I’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue outta your head.” A part of Mickey quickly regretted his harshness, but knew he had no other choice. His heart rate, which calmed down from his orgasm high, had quickened again and this time out of anxiety rather than lust.

Hurt and slightly taken aback, Ian retreated to give Mickey space his body now clearly wanted, projecting tension from every locked muscle. Mickey didn’t know how to articulate to Ian how he felt, and tried to stave off the waves of fear crashing through his head. He stared hard at Ian’s neck, printed with red marks, in order to avoid eye contact and to buy him time to come up with some explanation.

Communication was slightly easier for Ian.

“The fuck is your problem?”

Mickey laughed bitterly to himself, and opened his mouth only to close it and abruptly turn away.

“HEY!” Ian followed and reached out to stop Mickey, who turned back around and placed his hand firm and flat against Ian’s chest, arm straightened and locked to keep the distance.

“Look.” Mickey folded his lips, pressing down so hard that the original pink was bleached white. “You’re gonna have to—” He stopped himself, rubbing at his bottom lip before continuing. “Look, you think you’re good to go home now?”

Ian was speechless.

“If you want, you can always stay with uh, stay with Mandy.”

Ian watched Mickey apologetically scratching the back of his head walk away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

From one distraction to the next, Ian headed home with every intention of seeking refuge somewhere else. He arrived just in time to see Lip holding Liam and leading Debbie and Carl up the front steps, with Monica and a tall black woman standing next to her, arms crossed.

Monica.

Her dark brown hair was dyed blonde, and she was dressed in fake furs and kitten heels, on which she jumped excitedly at the sight of Ian. The smile that spread across her face was unrestrained and so carefree, as if she were immune to the stress her arrival caused, which she probably was.

“Ian,” she said his name like she just woke up, voice hoarse and sweet. “My beautiful boy.”

Torn between walking into her embrace like the child in his body wanted him to or taking an anger-fueled step back, Ian was frozen, vibrating with flashing memories of her pet names and arms forever reaching for him before Debbie was born.

Arms curled tightly around herself, body curved into a ball of tears of despair, thin parched lips whispering apologies and guilty confessions.

“Except you,” she said to him once. “I did good on you.”

Ian remembered softer, smaller hands on his shoulders as a boy, and looking up to see Fiona guiding him away from Monica’s room. Fiona was only 11 at the time, but age didn’t matter so much as the adopted motherly stance, substituting for the parenting she never had. She had sat him down on their shared bed where Lip was still sleeping on his stomach, snoring softly into his pillow.

“You okay?” she had asked him, patting the curls on his head. He didn’t say anything at the time, but she could read the questions in his wide eyes, and his solemn face attempting maturity he wasn’t quite capable of yet.

“C’mere, sweetface,” she had murmured, pulling her brother into her arms, squishing his cheek against her collarbone. Ian learned from the determined but shaky purse of Fiona’s lips that crying didn’t help anyone.

“Ian.” Fiona’s voice pulled him back to the current reality. She was carrying a small suitcase, with Steve close behind her. He reached for her suitcase but she jerked her arm away, so he put his hands up in surrender, staying in his lane.

“You’re leaving?” Ian finally spoke, comforted by the presence of his sister.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding her head towards the house next door. “Steve bought the house.” She shrugged, looking slightly ashamed.

“Where’s she staying?” Ian asked, looking over at Monica, whose sweet smile was fading off her face.

Fiona jutted her chin back to the Gallagher house.

“She’s staying here?”

“Is that a problem?” The black woman’s voice was deep and powerful.

“Bob,” Monica whined, hands fluttering, trying to appease her partner. “Don’t scare the kids.”

Ian raised his eyebrows and snorted. ‘The kids’. Who did she think she was?

“Then I’m leaving too,” he said, speaking directly and only to Fiona.

“Where you gonna go?” she asked.

“Mickey’s,” he replied without thinking, but then quickly frowned, and corrected himself. “Mandy’s.”

“Not for long, okay?” Fiona said. Ian eyed the small suitcase she had in her hand, and she mouthed ‘squirrel fund’.

“Yeah, okay.” He walked past Monica who watched him wordlessly, looking like a kicked puppy. Grimacing at her watery brown eyes, he opened the gate and stepped up into the house.

As Ian was packing some of his things, Lip told Debbie and Liam goodnight and closed her bedroom door softly.

“Hey,” he greeted once he crossed the threshold to their shared room.

“What did I miss from mom?” Ian asked, double-checking his backpack one last time.

“Well, you know how dad’s a total fucking asshole?” Lip said, sighing as he sat down on the bottom bunk.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Turns out he’s the good one.”

“What exactly is she here for anyways?”

“They want to take Liam,” Lip sighed, stress weighing his usually unperturbed face down.

“What? They can’t do that!” Ian protested.

Lip sighed again and shrugged, then motioned towards Ian’s still open backpack.

“You’re leaving?”

Ian’s lip curled up in disgust at the thought of staying. “You’re not?”

“Nah, I’m gonna…make sure they don’t take Liam,” Lip explained, running a tired hand over his face.

Ian paused guiltily, halfway through swinging his backpack on his shoulder. Lip saw his hesitation and chuckled.

“Go,” he said, throwing a sock at his brother. “I’ll keep an eye on things, and I’ll see you at school tomorrow, yeah?”

Ian nodded and clapped his brother on the shoulder, communicating his appreciation and support with a tight squeeze, then headed to say goodnight to the rest of his family members before leaving for the Milkovich house.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mandy watched greedily as she slipped another finger between Karen’s wet folds.

“Mm,” Karen hummed and smiled contentedly, running a hand through her own hair.

Mandy was kneeling between Karen’s legs, slowly fingering Karen. She rubbed her thumb over Karen’s clit in smooth rhythmic circles, and bit back her grin at the tensing of Karen’s abs.

“God,” Karen sighed breathily. “You’re so much better at this than—”

Not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence, Mandy started to pump her fingers in harder and faster, successfully prompting Karen to interrupt herself with a moan.

Motivated by the praise, Mandy lowered herself and started kissing Karen’s hipbones, trailing her tongue down her inner thigh. She waited until Karen’s breathing had slowed back down to normal before removing and replacing her fingers with her tongue, which was cool and wet against her hot folds. Mandy continued rubbing Karen’s clit in circular motions, but focused on kissing, licking, and sucking at Karen’s labia, before thrusting her tongue in as far as she could go.

“Oh God, fuck,” Karen hissed, and moved her hands to caress and grab her own breasts through her bra. “Mm, yeah, like that, oh God.”

Staying in the same position, Mandy squeezed her thighs together, and let out a low groan at how wet she was, even though Karen hadn’t even touched her. The groan vibrated through her tongue and the hot breath puffed against Karen’s pussy, eliciting pleading whimpers. Mandy tried to lick even deeper and rub harder, exhilarated by the way Karen started undulating against her face.

“Mandy,” Karen cried out at the building pressure, and reached down to lock her hands around Mandy’s hair.

“God, Mandy, yes!” When Mandy stopped licking to move upwards and suck Karen’s clit into her mouth, Karen’s hips shot up and her orgasm broke through her, flooding her with wave after wave of pleasure which she rode out, pulling tightly on Mandy’s hair.

The sense of gratification was worth the pain in her scalp, Mandy decided. She rolled onto her back next to Karen once her hair was released, and Mandy found she was breathing almost as heavily as Karen was. Once their heartbeats slowed, Mandy was pleasantly surprised to feel Karen interlocking their fingers together. They were holding hands. Mandy’s lip quickly curled into a shy but giddy smile, but her moment of glee was interrupted by the harsh slamming of the front door, followed by a loud thump, and an even louder “FUCK!” and another slamming of Mickey’s bedroom door to conclude the symphony.

Karen jumped and withdrew her hand at the sound of Mickey’s voice, and she looked so much like a deer caught in headlights for a second that Mandy felt sorry for her.

“You should go,” she said, sitting up to reach for a cigarette, aiming to smoke away the tension that suddenly filled the air.

Karen sat up on her knees, and quickly got dressed. Before she left, she crawled over to Mandy, taking the cigarette out of her mouth with her right hand. She leaned in slowly, savoring the way Mandy’s lips opened slightly in anticipation, and she swooped in to capture them with her own. Her left hand trailed down past Mandy’s jaw, Mandy’s neck, skimmed over Mandy’s collarbones, down between her breasts, and further down to cup her conspicuously wet crotch. She licked into Mandy’s mouth, and bit down softly on Mandy’s lower lip, before moaning softly and kissing her deeply again. Mandy’s legs tightened around Karen’s hand, and Karen pulled back with a smile.

“Mm,” Karen murmured, before opening her eyes with a giggle. “I’ll be back to take care of this later,” she teased, rubbing Mandy through her shorts.

Mandy rolled her eyes, flustered and shoved Karen away. Karen laughed, put the cigarette into her mouth, and crept out of the room, closing the door behind her. With a heavy sigh, Mandy lay back down on the ground, toying with the bottom of her shirt. She never thought she’d be in this position, sexually frustrated by Karen Jackson. God. How did this become her reality? Must’ve been Ian’s gay that rubbed off onto her, she thought, even though they didn’t even spend that much time together.

Someone suddenly knocked on her door. Karen wouldn’t have knocked, Mickey never knocked, and Terry was gone for the time being, so that left Ian as the only possibility. Speak of the devil. He came over so often for Mickey that he easily let himself into the house.

“It’s open,” she called.

“Hey,” Ian greeted after opening the door. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder and hood over his head.

“What’s up?”

“Uh,” he hesitated, closing the door behind him and setting his backpack down, then sitting down cross-legged to join Mandy on the floor. He let out a long breath through puffed cheeks, and Mandy waited patiently, lightly crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

“Nothing much,” Ian lied.

“Shut the fuck up,” Mandy said, grinning lightly and shoving her friend, encouraging him to continue.

“Alright,” he laughed. “Um, fucked someone today.”

“Okay?”

“Someone I actually care about.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And…guess it didn’t really work out the way I thought it would.”

“Shit.”

“And my mom came back. Left a few years ago, then showed up out of nowhere. So…there’s that.”

Mandy stilled, and a peaceful silence washed over them. Ian lifted his head to look at Mandy, and she scooted over to put her head on his shoulder comfortingly.

“You’re staying here tonight, then,” she said decidedly.  

“Yeah,” Ian laughed softly. “Thanks.”

No need to thank me, Mandy thought to herself. Didn’t really do anything for you. She curled an arm around his anyways, and her last thought before drifting asleep was that she hoped the top of her head was as comfortable a pillow as Ian’s shoulder.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What’s up?” Karen asked, inviting herself into Mickey’s room unannounced.

Mickey ignored her, reaching for a cigarette on his bedside, and Karen rolled her eyes. Using cigarettes to avoid conversation seemed to be a Milkovich defense mechanism. She crawled over Mickey’s mattress and snatched his cigarette right as he lit it, and put it in between her lips, inhaling deeply.

“The fuck, Karen?” Mickey said indignantly. Nobody needs two cigarettes at once, he fumed to himself.

Karen pulled the two cigarettes out of her mouth and cocked her head, surveying her disgruntled friend. She exhaled, letting the smoke fill the silence, as she knew better than to push for more before Mickey’s neck muscles visibly started relaxing.

Blinking hard at the wall cluttered with his own drawings, Mickey was slowly comforted by the familiarity of his room and the smell of nicotine. When his fists finally unfurled, Karen handed his cigarette back to him, keeping Mandy’s hanging from her lips.

“So?” she prompted.

Sighing heavily, Mickey ran a hand through his hair. There was no point avoiding it, and there was no one he trusted more to share this with.

“Ian and I fucked.”

“And?"

“And--and--the fuck do you mean, ‘and’?”

“You freaked out, didn’t you? Ran away.”

“Mind your own fuckin’ business,” Mickey muttered, refusing to look at his friend.

“It’s just sex, Mickey. We’ve all had sex before.”

“Yeah,” Mickey agreed. Just sex. Everyone has sex. It was just sex. Sex was a stress reliever. Ian was stressed. It was just sex. “Yeah,” Mickey repeated, nodding to himself, more and more appeased.

Karen smiled at Mickey, and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek before hopping off his bed and heading for the door. She was about to leave when she stopped and turned around, a smirk on her face.

“So,” she started, getting Mickey’s attention. “Was he big?” she asked, cracking up and dodging the pillow Mickey threw her way.

“None of your business, bitch!”

“Oh, Ian,” Karen fake moaned, this time shielding herself from the second pillow by closing Mickey’s door.

“Ian, you feel so good,” she groaned at the door, dragging out the last syllable. Giggling, she turned around to head back to Mandy’s room only to see Ian Gallagher himself, closing Mandy’s door and looking at Karen with a confused look on his face.

He raised his eyebrows, amused, as Karen blinked innocently and walked towards Mandy’s room.

“Out of the way, Gallagher,” she said good humoredly, gently pushing him aside to let herself in Mandy’s room. Shaking his head and smiling, Ian headed towards the couch.

Mandy was curved like a crescent moon in the middle of her bed. Karen couldn’t help but take advantage of this moment and let her eyes roam over the girl. The thin hands slightly curled and held near her chest, the black hair fallen across her relaxed face, and the slow, peaceful rise and fall of her body as she breathed through slightly opened lips. Karen knew Mandy could be soft, (the arched back, the whimpers, the tongue, and the look in her eyes after after she came) as opposed to the usual sharpness that both defined and protected Mandy. But this Mandy seemed even more honest and vulnerable, and Karen’s heart was going to collapse in on itself if she didn’t make a move.

The rustling of the sheets as Mandy reached for her blanket with her eyes still closed interrupted Karen’s inner monologue.

“Stop being such a creep and get over here,” Mandy mumbled, words barely intelligible. Karen grinned and lay down to face her, pulling the blanket over both of their heads, and curving her body to mirror Mandy’s. Their hands reached for each other at the same time and interlocked, connecting them for the first time without the excuse of sexual intention. Karen closed her eyes, smiling, thinking about how they must’ve looked from the outside above the blanket. If Mandy was a crescent moon before Karen lay down, then it was a new moon tonight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The frayed edges of the Milkovich’s only couch were only getting more and more frayed as Ian restlessly twisted and pulled at the threads. As if untying every knot could solve another problem in his head.

He refused to regret having sex with Mickey. There was nothing to be ashamed of. It was good sex. Ian enjoyed it, and he knew Mickey did too. This was new territory for the both of them, but Ian was set on exploring it. Mickey said he could stay with Mandy, which was the same thing as staying at Mickey’s. They lived in the same damn house. That meant that Mickey wanted Ian, right? That meant that Mickey wanted Ian in his life. They were best friends whose sexual tension was finally relieved.

Ian’s head shot up at the sound of Mickey’s door opening, revealing a jumper and boxer-clad Mickey. Okay, so the tension wasn’t relieved, sexual or not. But there was no way in hell Ian was letting this go. Mickey cleared his throat.  

“Did our couch try to beat you up or somethin’?”

“What?”

Mickey nodded towards Ian’s hands. “Looks like you’re trying to rip it apart.” He shrugged, then sat down a foot away from Ian, relaxing into the couch. “Wouldn’t matter anyways, already a fucked up piece of shit.”

Ian put his hands onto his knees and waited for Mickey to say more. At this point, the silence was unbearable for Ian, and he turned towards Mickey, but before he could open his mouth, Mickey’s hand reached towards Ian’s face. Ian held his breath, heart pounding in his chest, waiting to see what Mickey would do. The look on Mickey’s face was solemn.

Mickey flicked his middle finger against Ian’s head, hard.

“OW!”

Mickey burst out laughing.

“What the fuck, Mick?” Ian complained, but couldn’t even begin to get mad at his best friend. Not when he was laughing and finally carefree. He couldn’t help himself and grinned at the dumb maneuver. Mickey quieted down to chuckling, and when he finally stopped, both boys were in considerably better moods. Laughter was a safer stress reliever than sex, Mickey thought to himself.

“We good?” he asked, eyebrows raised at his best friend.

Ian rolled his eyes and leaned back as well. He knocked his knee against Mickey’s, and Mickey knocked his knee back.

“Yeah,” Ian answered, finally feeling the tiredness and relief flow through his body. “We’re good.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! A NEW UPDATE! i'm not back in the fandom but i did have a handful of people interested in the continuation of this fic, so here we are. comments are very much appreciated and incredibly encouraging!!!!!! hope the smut (and the length of this chapter) suffices

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback would be appreciated :)  
> (allsnrgent.tumblr.com)


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